When In One's Own Skin
by WasherAnne
Summary: Bakugou Katsuki has many things he regrets doing and many more things he regrets not doing. He is the last one who wants to forgive himself for all of it even when the world continues to move and progress around him, telling his that it was time to finally do so. Katsuki doesn't know what he really wants at this point and is terrified by what his own desires might mean.
1. Prologue

So a new BNHA fic... What a surprise...

My previous fic got lost in the chaos of college and a reemergence of my One Piece obsession, and by the time I felt a spark to write again, the manga was to the point where Shouto's family was becoming a bigger focus. I want to wait and see what happens with Touya before I fix that up. So this time I wanted to focus on my favorite boy, Bakugou Katsuki. This ain't a happy fic thus far, but maybe we'll get that happy ending. Anyway, my boy is very sad and is having a rough time with it, so be gentle.

I don't have a lot planned out right now outside of my initial premise and some random future events, but I hope you enjoy what's here!

Thanks for reading!

Prologue

Bakugou Katsuki wakes to nothing.

Perhaps that isn't quite correct however. Bakugou Katsuki wakes to nothing that matters; there is nothing in the world that seems to mean anything anymore. There hasn't been anything for a while. He doesn't linger long on that fact; in fact, there is little that ever seems to hold his attention or thoughts these days.

There are tasks to be done, places to go, people to ignore, but everything is met with the same methodical monotony. He is as much a robot as any human is capable of being, the world happening around him, in spite of him, _to_ spite him. And so he prefers not to think about anything he has to do anymore, content (if one could call such bland apathy that) to just let events roll over him, past him, but never allow them to pass through him anymore.

Being connected to events meant being connected to people mean nothing but pain.

Katsuki was quite accustomed to pain, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it, that didn't mean it didn't affect him anymore. Being accustomed to pain meant anticipating pain; it never meant accepting it. So Katsuki did what he could to avoid pain by avoiding doing anything else, by avoiding feeling anything else.

Sometimes though…

Sometimes something would happen to pierce his monotony; something would explode his life into a world of colors and sounds and feelings he thought he had left behind.

He didn't like explosions.

A piece of him found that idea amusing, the part of him that still scoffed at anything that was "lesser." He didn't think he liked that part of himself anymore; in fact, he sometimes thought he hated all of himself simply because of that part of him. If he was only as good as his weakest link then Katsuki thought he must be the sort of shitstain that shouldn't even exist anymore.

But thinking things like that meant imploding. And if anything was worse than explosions, the volatile nature that forced itself into the outside world, it was implosions. An implosion meant that the volatile nature caused him to crumble but took just as much of the outside world with it. Just as much was lost, only he was gone with it. At least at the end of the explosion, Katsuki was still there to linger in the guilt. He deserved that much at the very least.

And so when Bakugou Katsuki wakes to nothing, there is nothing out of the ordinary in that in the very least. Ordinary was safe; ordinary meant the volatile nature of his self and the world were both kept at bay.

Katsuki went about his morning tasks with the same monotony with which he did everything. He spent a long while staring blankly at his open closet before getting dressed. He didn't get a choice in his clothing; he had to wear his school uniform after all, so there was no need to look at the unchanging assortment of clothing for as long as he did, but there was something calming about letting his mind wander as his eyes drifted over shirts he hadn't worn in months. It had been a long while since he had worn anything but his uniform or his sweatshirt.

He packed his backpack. His notebook was there; his phone was there, but most importantly his sweatshirt (the same one he slept in and lingered in on weekends and did pretty much everything else in) was carefully folded and securely placed within its particular pocket. He had to make sure no one saw it. It was _his._ Personal, meant to be protected, and Katsuki thought he at least could do that much.

Katsuki walked to and from school as he had for years, but in recent memory, he has always gone the long way to school. Sometimes he lied to himself, making up excuses that it was for the extra exercise or that it was such a beautiful day that he had to enjoy it for just a bit longer. That didn't work as well when the thunderstorms raged, and he still refused to take the other route.

Katsuki hated thunderstorms and the concussive booming of thunder and blinding flashing of lightning, but he hated himself when he went the other way just a bit more.

So this morning like every other morning, Katsuki took the long way. He saw the stray cat that they– that _he_ had once named Scrub. He gave the one-eared cat a couple of treats from the bag that he had carried in his backpack ever since. Sometimes Scrub followed Katsuki to school; he didn't today.

It was a good day today all things considered, so Katsuki couldn't really say he minded the lack of cat presence. There were worse days when the cat was sometimes the only reason he could even make it to school.

Instead of focusing on the cat along the way, however, Katsuki followed one of his "recommended exercises" and counted the cement blocks of the sidewalk. At this point Katsuki was fairly certain he had counted everything- from windows to trees to light posts- to school and back to his house at least twice, but he never remembered the numbers. They didn't matter.

Katsuki was meant to ground himself in the world around him in a way that was beneficial and not so "inherently self-destructive." Counting focused the mind and calmed the emotions, and even if he hadn't burst out in anger in months, Katsuki was still wary of that part of himself, so counting it was.

He didn't mind the counting. He didn't always think it really did anything to help him, but he saw nothing wrong in it either. It at least kept his mind occupied with something; his thoughts couldn't drift into darkness as easily. Numbers were too concrete for that.

Katsuki found himself liking numbers a lot more in recent times. They were rational and methodical and unwavering in their meaning and usage such that Katsuki found them far more comforting than any sort of solace human companionship could hope to bring. Numbers wouldn't let him down. And if this obsession stemmed into counting months and weeks and days and _seconds_ then that was alright for him. He never shared that obsession with anyone else, or they'd take that away from him too.

He deserved everything else, but if they removed that necessity, Katsuki feared he would just shut down. He deserved to be so haunted by the passing of moments just like all his other punishments. And so what if this was the only one he could inflict upon himself, he had earned at least this much.

And so Katsuki counted sidewalk blocks as he counted minutes, but the minutes haunted him through the school day while the concrete faded back into the void of unnecessary disintegration of knowledge.

The day passed in the same haze that everything happened in. He thought that maybe someone had tried to speak with him at lunch over something, but for the life of him, Katsuki could not accurately recall who had spoken, what it was they had talked about, or even if it had truly happened. It hadn't.

At the end of the day, Katsuki waited until everyone had left the classroom before he even began packing up his bag. He allowed himself to open the pocket that held the precious sweatshirt and stroke the worn material for a bit of comfort before he completed the simple task. The tensions of the day seemed to ooze into the soft fabric. Sometimes Katsuki thought he relied upon it a little too much; however, he also knew within his soul (as cheesy as that sounded) that he would never be able to handle the world without it.

On his way home after school, Katsuki never went directly back to the house. Sometimes he wandered down streets his parents had long ago warned him away from; sometimes he sat near the park, away from anyone who might strike up conversation, and sometimes he just walked around the school, wandering to places that he knew he shouldn't go, thinking going to things he knew he couldn't change, wishing for changes he knew he wouldn't get.

Those were the hardest days. That meant he wouldn't get back to his house until well after his curfew, tired and sick to his stomach. There would be food left out on the table that he wouldn't touch, and instead Katsuki would trudge up to his room and lay in bed for long hours with only sleepless thoughts for company. He would inevitably give up on sleep all together and go wandering around the neighborhood instead, too early for anyone to bother him. He would think too much there too until he forgot the time again. He wouldn't go to school those days. He would go back to his house after that second set of wanderings and finally crash from the mental exhaustion and emotional anguish.

Those days were becoming less frequent however, and although that sounded as though it should be something to be celebrated, Katsuki feared what that meant which inevitably caused him to agonize over both the forgetting and what was being forgotten. He didn't want to forget; he couldn't; he shouldn't, and so, he wouldn't. He refused to let himself even ponder the idea, and yet he also couldn't keep such thoughts from his mind for very long at all.

Today though had been a good day all things considered, and the skies were clear, the scent of fall crisp in the air. Katsuki went to the park today.

The first thing he did once he got there was bring out the hooded sweatshirt. He pulled the faded green fabric over his head. It fell over his frame in such a way that the material seemed as though it was meant to be stretched out and oversized, but appeared on Katsuki's frame to fit him nearly perfectly. There was a disconnect in just this singular piece of clothing that seemed to reflect the phenomenon present in nearly every part of Katsuki's life.

Still Katsuki huddled himself into the gentle embrace of the worn fabric, dozing on grass as the sun slowly cast longer shadows across the park, alone with his thoughts as always.

Suddenly Katsuki bolted upright, familiar tones of laughter ringing in his ears.

He swiveled his head around, eyes wild and searching for a familiar face alight with that familiar laughter. His body was already moving onto its feet before he had a chance to tell it to do anything outside of instinct. A smile dared to twitch on his lips as his gaze darted around frantically.

No…

The boy was too young, too lanky, too brown and bland and not right.

Katsuki sighed, shaking his head violently to dispel empty daydreams.

Shaking his head turned to clutching his hair turned to choked gasps of sobs that he refused to voice. Tears stung his eyes, but he swallowed them, burying them along with the sobs deep within his stomach. He held them there as long as he could until his stomach churned from the effort, and his lungs burned for air.

He shivered violently from the weight of the raw emotions he refused to express.

"Are you alright?"

Red eyes already pressed into a glare found the face of a nondescript older woman. "Fine." Katsuki managed to scoff out. It sounded unconvincing even to him.

She didn't look like she believed him either, but she didn't press it any further, not vocally at least. She merely kept her eyebrows scrunched together and her lips pursed thinly as she scrutinized him.

Katsuki avoided her gaze, pulling the sweatshirt and his arms closer into his torso, futilely trying to protect himself from a threat that he imagined existed. He squirmed more and cleared his throat as the silence grew long and awkward.

"Well if you're sure…" she trailed off in a way that exaggerated what her eyes had already been saying.

Katsuki forced himself to strengthen his stance at that vocal accusation (though he rationally knew that calling it such made little to no sense) and look directly into her eyes, hoping that his gaze would show defiance he couldn't vocalize or even really convince himself to feel.

It must have been enough for her though as she merely let out a single huffed, "Fine," of her own before turning to walk back the way she came.

Now that he was on his feet and had a bit of strength back, Katsuki decided he might as well go home. He pulled the sweatshirt off carefully and gently placed it away once more before he moved to begin the trek back.

"You know," Katsuki startled; the woman apparently hadn't gone as far as he had thought. "That sweatshirt doesn't really seem to suit you."

If he had the energy and the will, Katsuki might have huffed out a laugh at that. Instead there was just a resigned sigh of, "Yeah, you're probably right…"

She smiled glumly in that way old women do when you know that they know more than even you yourself do. "It was nice to see you again Katsuki-kun."

Katsuki didn't want to think about why she knew who he was. The old lady was frankly rather creeping him out at that point, so he just half-nodded in a sort of agreement, sort of goodbye and brushed past her as quickly as he could.

"I hope you're happier the next time we meet Katsuki-kun."

It was said rather quietly all things considered. He didn't know if he was meant to hear it or not, but regardless, Katsuki ignored the lady's final words in favor of walking faster.

On the way home he counted the people he saw, overtly paranoid that one of them would begin wondering over his mental state and emotional well-being as well. They didn't, but then most of Katsuki's fears were unfounded.

He was home in time for dinner tonight. His dad tried to make conversation and ask about his day. Katsuki sometimes responded. Dinner was a very quiet affair as everything else in the Bakugou house seemed to be these days. Katsuki couldn't say he minded it that way. At least his mother wasn't getting on his case anymore.

Katsuki was almost ashamed that he didn't miss the way she would badger and yell at him before. She barely said a word to him now and made eye contact with him even less. And how sad was that that Katsuki couldn't even recall the last time his mother had even looked at him, and how much worse was it that Katsuki couldn't even say he really cared if she did.

Dad had always acted like a bridge between their vibrant personalities, but the strain was becoming too great these days. Katsuki and Mitsuki's relationship was broken seemingly beyond repair. There was too much that had been said and left unapologetically unaddressed, and even more that had never been said, that now if they even wanted to reach out to each other, they would just inevitably hurt themselves even more struggling through the pieces.

The bridge was thick with daggers of distrust and scraps of broken sentiment that it was a wonder Masaru himself hadn't broken apart from the weight of it all. He was a tightrope at this point, a thread stretched between two irreconcilable plains.

So Katsuki ate as quickly as he dared, excusing himself from the table to clean his dishes before secluding himself to the confines of his room. He sighed as he closed the door behind him, leaning against it as his shoulders relaxed. He was always tense after dealing with his family for any extended period of time.

He pulled the sweatshirt back out, stripping down to only his boxers before climbing into the worn fabric once more. He huddled beneath it and his blankets before beginning to fully shut down.

Katsuki was exhausted from the day in every meaning of the word, and it seemed that as soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes were slipping shut, and he was quickly following them into the quiet darkness of sleep. He didn't even have the moment to hope that nightmares would stay far away from his peaceful escape into the world of darkened bliss.

He did not often dream, or at least, Katsuki did not often remember them, but when he did. When he did, they were never something he could forget easily, always terrors that lingered when his eyes slipped shut during the rest of the day. He did not dream often, but when he did, they were always nightmares.

And so Katsuki drifted easily off to sleep, leaving the world of nightmares known as reality behind.


	2. Chapter 1: Running on Repeat

So here's chapter 1 officially! I'm using this as my NaNoWriMo this year, and I've been good about staying on track so far so hopefully that continues...

I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

On Fridays after school, Katsuki was required to go to therapy. He used to go three times a week then it was two then they tried to get him to attend group sessions which caused him to relapse back to three sessions a week. Finally, he worked his way down to once a week, every Friday.

He doesn't know quite how he feels about that concept of progress anymore. There is the obvious benefit that he is no longer required to discuss emotions he hardly understands and articulate thoughts that don't ever fit within the words that fall from his tongue as often as before; however, Katsuki had a difficult relationship with progress.

In the before progress had always been the purpose behind everything he had done. He was meant to be the best, greater than everyone in everything, and progress meant that he was on his way to accomplishing that. He would be remembered if he progressed far enough, and he always believed that if people remembered him, knew who he was instinctively, dreamed of being just like him, then Katsuki fulfilled his most sincere wish.

But that was before. He still believed in progress, but now progressing held a bitter despair that before had sweetened his tongue. It was as though his taste buds had finally acclimated to the artificial honey of progress that now he could finally taste the true rancid quality that had always lingered beneath the ideal he once thought so satisfying.

Progress meant leaving the past behind in a way that Katsuki didn't think he could handle. If he forgot the past then not only would the bliss of ignorant childhood be gone, but there was also the very real possibility that he would forget all his previous mistakes. Progress meant moving past and over and beyond but that didn't mean he wouldn't relapse. World history was cyclical enough, so why should Katsuki himself be any different?

Still every single fucking time he went to his therapy sessions, Dr. Hiruluk would tell him what wonderful progress he was making and how if he kept going like this then things would maybe get easier. Katsuki didn't want easier when he had done nothing to deserve it.

But his sessions were required, and when he didn't show up, his dad would look at him with those sad eyes that seemed to drown Katsuki with their disappointment. His independence would get constricted, and their house would become even colder, every movement more agitated and angry until Katsuki redeemed himself by going to his next session.

When Katsuki shows up to this time it is with the same resignation that has brought him here for the past month rather than any true belief that he can heal and grow and lacking any real desire to do so as well.

He never showed up right on time; any moment spent in the waiting room, lingering in the possibility of being seen or being overcome by desires to just bolt before he can be called, would be a moment too long.

Dr. Hiruluk was accustomed to it at this point; he was accustomed to a lot of Katsuki's bullshit by now. And if Katsuki knew anything about himself for absolute certain, it was that he had a lot of varied bullshit dragging along behind and within him. Thoughts, feelings, histories, too much that shouldn't be as it was.

Katsuki walked directly into the room when he got there without bothering to knock or wait for any confirmation that he should enter now. If he did, he probably wouldn't be able to really convince himself to enter even after so many sessions under his belt.

"Ah, Katsuki-kun, there you are," Dr. Hiruluk looked up from the papers he had been scanning, they were probably whatever complaints and reports he had received about Katsuki over the past week. His parents and teachers were always sending the quack all sorts of things that Katsuki didn't think were all that very accurate.

Katsuki dropped his backpack on the floor by the wall before taking his seat, slinging his legs over one arm of the chair so that he was draped perpendicularly across the cushion (Hiruluk had made the mistake of telling Katsuki to make himself comfortable one too many times until Katsuki finally decided to take him up on that offer).

"So how was your week?" It always started off this way.

"Fine." Katsuki was always tense at the beginning of the sessions, having retreated back into his head throughout the week.

"Oh come now, there must have been something more to it! Did you learn anything interesting at school? Or maybe you did something fun last weekend?" Hiruluk was always far too chipper for his own good.

"They just talk about the same shit over and over at school. I did nothing last weekend; that was fun." He wasn't about to offer anything outside of what was asked; the doctor had to work for his answers, poking and prying through the layers of Katsuki's facades and deflections to reach something that more closely resembled the truth.

"Well how about for this weekend? Anything special planned?"

"Nope." Katsuki popped the p and grinned sardonically which just ended up looking like he was baring his teeth at the blank white expanse of ceiling.

"Another weekend of nothing then?" Katsuki didn't even bother to respond to that.

The doctor sighed. "What about the people at school? Have you given any thought to what I recommended last time about connecting with someone new?"

"Yeah, I've thought about it."

"And?"

"And I think it's a shitty idea."

"And why do you say that?"

Katsuki just glared at the ceiling, his insides fuming. This was another reason why he hated these sessions, his emotions and nerves were always provoked in ways that they never were in the real world. Katsuki could feel bits of his other self coming through in his annoyance, and while part of him loved being allowed to just feel again for once, the other part was terrified of what he'd do when feeling.

"Well what's stopping you from connecting with someone right now do you think?"

"I don't want to." 'Stop asking.'

"And why is that?"

"Because I just don't want to." ' _Stop asking.'_

"Katsuki," the doctor sighed, staring over his reading glasses to look the boy in the eye.

Katsuki sighed himself and grimaced.

"Do you wanna try that answer again?"

The next huff of air deflated Katsuki entirely, his body molding into the chair even further. "I don't like talking to other people. They either know what happened and are scared of me- which they should be goddammit- or they don't fucking know which is even worse. No one knows the whole thing, and I'm not gonna tell 'em, but if they don't know then I can't be around them. I don't trust- I just well- I don't trust them."

"That's not it though is it?"

Katsuki squirmed, rolling his shoulders around, trying to gain some semblance of comfort and control within this situation. "It's enough."

"So if someone did know the whole thing then you could befriend them?"

"Well, no, or I guess, maybe, but really…" It wasn't worth it to lie, not even to himself in this case. "No. I couldn't do it even then."

"So then what's the real issue here?"

"I'm not good at making friends."

"Katsuki." Hiruluk didn't believe that for a second, and Katsuki hadn't expected him to. Katsuki was very good at dancing around his issues; however, once cornered, he became desperate, and his desperation hindered any attempt to continue his facades.

They waited in silence as Katsuki worried his lip, biting at it to the point where he was nearly piercing the flesh.

"I guess…" he trailed off, thoughts moving too quickly to word fully. He wasn't sure he wanted them outside his mind, exposed to reality as they would become should he vocalize them.

"Take your time."

"I'm myself. I can't change that. But I want to. Because I don't trust me. Even if someone else did. I wouldn't. I _can't._ " If he said it in small phrases, took breaks in between, then maybe he could wring it from his mind. "And if someone else became… _friends…_ w-with me. They can't. I won't let them. Because it wouldn't be good for them. There's no way that would end good for them."

"Why?"

"Because… Because!"

"..."

"Because I don't trust me! I'd hurt them. Do something terrible that I'd regret, but it wouldn't matter. I'll still have done it, and everything we did before wouldn't fucking matter because I did that. I hurt them. You can't take that away…" Katsuki's voice cracked, emotion clenching his throat.

"Katsuki-kun, you've come so far since we started."

' _Don't tell me that.'_

"You can open up to me, so why not someone new? Find the right person. They'll understand if you just try your best. If they don't then at least you know you tried. And when they do understand- because _someone_ will- they could help you more than I ever could. They'll help you more than you could ever do by yourself. So why not let yourself try?"

'Stop asking.'

Katsuki was tensed within his chair again, his armor and castle walls once more carefully constructed to protect him from the sting of the world. He curled his hands into fists, grinding his teeth, furrowing his eyebrows, every muscle taught with inner turmoil.

"What's so wrong with taking a chance?"

'Stop asking.'

"Why not at least try once?"

' _Stop asking.'_

"What do you have to lose?"

" _All my memories!_ "

Dr. Hiruluk was clearly slightly taken aback by the sudden explosion of temper. Katsuki wasn't known for these sorts of dramatic outbursts in the office. If he was having an episode, it usually meant he had fallen into a darker place in his mind, shutting down rather than blowing up.

"And what do you mean by that?"

But Katsuki just shook his head vehemently. He was tight lipped after that, refusing to say anything else on the matter. He spoke in single words the rest of the session if he even answered at all until Dr. Hiruluk finally called the session to a close early once it became increasingly more apparent that Katsuki wouldn't open up again.

"Katsuki-kun," the doctor stopped him as he was picking up his backpack. "I do still want you to think about talking to someone new even if it's not someone at school or even someone you would call a friend. Talk to _someone_. It could even be reconnecting to someone. Just talk, okay?"

Katsuki nodded once before bolting out the door.

He kept running even after he has left the building. It was a long a time before he stopped. Even when he did, his mind was still running miles ahead.

The same hurried mentality followed him through the weekend as he tries to escape everything that he never can. He didn't even know what he was running from anymore; he hasn't known for a while.

He keeps running still.

When Katsuki went to school on Monday, there was an energy trapped in his body that he had not felt in months. He was a closely wound spring, potential energy confined too closely together, waiting to be released, to trigger something else.

He fidgeted throughout the entire morning, and unlike every other time when he hadn't heard a word the teachers have said, this time it was because he had run away in his mind rather than sunk deep within it. It was thrilling in a way, this feeling of being able to do _something_ , but in another matter of thinking, it was suffocating.

He wanted to do something, but he felt chained down, confined to his sack of skin. There was an innate compulsiveness to this energy that made him feel just as much a slave to this new surge of thought as he was dragged down by the weightiness of his melancholic sense of normality. It was intrusive and persistent in a way that pervaded his thoughts as much as his body.

Katsuki was asked several times to sit still; he heard every command; he could not listen to any of them.

By the time lunch rolled around, it was all he could do not to dash out the door and through the hallways until he could reach the fresh air. Sometime along the way to then, the energy had reached a point where it made him feel not just confined within his body but the room around him. It was a slowly consuming wave of claustrophobia that Katsuki could never say he had ever felt an inkling of in his life up until now.

He did not flee the school however (God only knew how his teachers and parents would have reacted to _that_ new compulsion) but instead exercised every fiber of his self-control and patience to wait his turn to be served lunch within the classroom.

It looked like it was Snail Eyes and Office Supplies turn to pass out the lunches.

Snail Eyes was obnoxious and always acted like it was Halloween every goddamn day by pulling his eyes out of their sockets and let them droop and swing and… It was just disgusting. (He was also a fucking cheater, but he was so stupid, he hadn't yet realized that he was placed purposefully next to the only people that got worse scores on exams than him. When he didn't get better grades he assumed it was because of the questions he had tried to answer himself.)

Office Supplies wasn't all that bad though. She was quiet, the typical shy nerdy girl, but rather passionate about dogs. She sat in front of Katsuki this year, but they had never really interacted outside of passing papers in their row.

"Thank you," Katsuki said hurriedly without really thinking about it as she handed him the tray of food, a small quirk of his lips tempting them into what was the closest Katsuki got to a soft smile in recent months.

The noise surrounding them stopped immediately, all movements and previous conversations ceasing as the hush swiftly travelled through the room.

Katsuki looked up, sensing the strange tension in the room, wondering over the girl's shadow that still lingered over him. Her eyes were still on him, and their gazes met, hers slightly glazed over behind glasses, seemingly startled beyond belief. Katsuki's brows scrunched in confusion.

'What the hell was- Oh! Oh. Oh…' Katsuki's eyes widened in realization before he ducked his head back down, falling back into himself.

He could not accurately say when the last time he had willingly spoken out in class was, let alone the last time he had spoken without prompting to someone that wasn't directly in charge of him. No one else in class seemed to be able to remember either. And even if they did remember the last time he spoke, it was never something as considerate as a thank you. God, he really was just the fucking worst wasn't he? He was a fool to think, to hope that they'd ever-

"You're welcome Bakugou-kun."

Katsuki peeked back up through his bangs. She was smiling at him before she turned to get another tray to bring to a classmate. The noise returned to the classroom, and that was that. He still ate his lunch in silence.

Now that he had successfully interacted with a peer, Katsuki felt even more rejuvenated as though he could finally actually do something, talk to someone without completely screwing it up. He doodled the entire afternoon to the extent that even in his math problems, the numbers had lives of their own. There were stories on his paper that probably didn't make sense but might have once been so when in his mind.

He resolved himself to talking to her at the end of the day, and even if they didn't become friends or hang out after that at least he'd have tried. That was what counted; that was enough. Right?

It was harder to keep his nerve when their final teacher released them at the end of the day, and she began packing her bag in relative earnest (Katsuki did everything more sedately that everyone else though). She looked like she had plans. Maybe he shouldn't… No. He needed to show that he could grow a fucking backbone.

He took a deep breath and looked around. Some people had already left, and those that were left were too engrossed in their own worlds to pay any attention to Katsuki.

He cleared his throat as he stood up behind her. "Eh, erm, h-hello."

She turned to face him, and somehow her questioning gaze pierced his fortified resolve, tempting him to bolt even faster than his own thoughts had before. He should go. He should leave. Now. Before he fucks it up. Before. Before. Before…

"Oh! Hello Bakugou-kun." Her pleasant reply helped to soothe some of those nerves.

He got through the first step; he greeted her. He started it. He had planned so many different responses and answers and questions to move on from this point, but he forgot them all in the heat of the moment. Katsuki stumbled over his thoughts and his words. "I-I'm sorry. I, uh, that is I don't remember your name…?" He trailed off in question.

She looked at least a little bit nervous, but Katsuki couldn't tell for sure nor could he surmise its cause. Regardless, she did answer, "Um, it's Tachibana Nami."

He felt stupid.

"Oh. Right."

He was stupid.

She, _Tachibana_ , fidgeted with the strap of her bag on her shoulder, looking at her hands where they played with the grey fabric then back up at him. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Did you want something?" She ended up asking.

Katsuki's brain was working overtime, but nothing coherent was coming from it. There was a jumble of thoughts and feelings, but he was as overwhelmed by them as he was by the situation itself. His responses got even less comprehensible. "Er," Good start. "I was, well, I was wondering actually if, you know, like, well, just that, I mean I, that is I-"

"Nami!" They both startled and glanced over to the door of their classroom where another two girls wait. One had bright blue hair and her hands on her hips; she was clearly the one who had called, looking impatient even though it had only been a moment since she had spoken. The other has sleek black hair and seemed to just be there for support; she still had a smile on her face.

"Sorry Bakugou-kun," Katsuki looked back at Tachibana, now entirely overwhelmed for a whole new reason. Girls shouting from multiple locations was just… overwhelming. "I've gotta go."

Katsuki couldn't tell if she actually felt remorseful, but he forced himself to still try to say his piece. He hadn't gotten to this point to just give up! "Oh, uh, yeah," he agreed. "But first I wanted to know if sometime you think I could, or we could, or something, or whoever really- do you-"

"Nami! We're gonna be late!" It is the black-haired girl who called this time.

"Come on already!" That was the blue-haired one again. Katsuki was becoming increasingly more nervous. He licked his lips out of anxiety.

"Sorry." Tachibana apologized again, beginning to move past him and towards the door. "I really have to go."

"Wait!" Katsuki called out hurriedly, reaching out a single hand. It caught her wrist as she passed him. It was just a gentle tug; it doesn't even have the power to really stop her. It was half-hearted and could not even have turned her to face him again.

She stopped anyway. She still flinched.

He immediately let go upon seeing her reaction, upon realizing what he had done. He flinched too. ' _Shit._ '

"I have to go." Tachibana said firmly. She didn't look back at him at all. She rushed to her friends. The black-haired girl held back the blue-haired one; they both glared at him.

Katsuki flinched again.

'Shit. Fuck. _No_. Nonononono.' He was stupid to have thought she would want to talk to him; he was even more stupid to believe he was capable of talking to someone without fucking it up. He couldn't talk to himself, couldn't think for himself without messing everything up, so why should he be any better at talking to other people?

He was so fucking stupid.

Katsuki stood there, glaring at his hands, quaking with emotions he couldn't process. He didn't know how he felt, didn't know how he should feel. The room was empty except for him, but he could still feel the walls press in around him, confining him, enclosing him.

His breath hitched in his throat; his mind had wrapped the noose around his neck, choking him with ropes of twisted emotions and warped thoughts. He couldn't breath. Oh God _,_ he couldn't _breathe_. His hands twitched around his neck, scratching his flesh raw, trying to pry the invisible enemy away from his throat.

He stumbled to his knees; his body couldn't even hold him up anymore. One hand smacked the ground, steadying him, preventing him from falling flat on his face. The other hand moved up from his neck, over his face to clutch at his hair. It pulled and tightened around the blond locks, yanking the strands as though that would lessen the swirling torrent in his head. He stared at the ground in shock, horrified by what he had done, terrified by his reaction to it.

His body shuddered, air finally passing through his throat once more; it came rasping out of his mouth as though rattling with the emotions that had lodged it there.

That single burst of sound opened the floodgates, a torrent of gasps that never quite reached the point of sobs clawed their way out of his throat. They tore gouges in his lungs, ripped gashes through his trachea, pulling his voice box behind them until he no longer made any sound at all. He gasped like a fish, jaw working uselessly to vocalize emotions that couldn't escape.

He crumpled to the ground and allowed himself a single sob.

That single sob dragged itself out until he couldn't hold the others back anymore, and suddenly one became many. They were dry sobs that left him feeling hollow and empty, sucking the life from his body. They weren't satisfying; they weren't beneficial. He was just numb by the end.

He had to leave. Go. Run. Escape.

He frantically pushed himself back to his feet, flung his arms around, fingers searching for his backpack without looking. He grabbed it by a single strap and bolted. He ran from the room, from the school, from the world.

He ran until his eyes finally saw the world again, until he could hear the birds and tasted something outside of the bitter tang of lingering emotions.

Katsuki looked around himself, finally present in the world around him once again. It was familiar in an eery sort of way as though he had taken a wrong turn into one of his nightmares.

He had climbed that tree when he was eight-years-old on a dare (it hadn't actually been one; he just wanted to prove he could do it). And he had pushed… pushed his _friend_ in a trashcan down that hill in the winter when they hadn't wanted to wait for Katsuki's mom to get the sleds. And he had shoved everything from sticks to rocks to leaves to shoes between the grates of that water drain.

Which meant that he had… Katsuki looked up from where he had been inspecting the sidewalk closely for the footprint he had left in the drying cement when he was six. Yep, there were the grey apartments with their red tiled roofs that he knew from his entire childhood. They hadn't changed at all. He didn't know why he had expected them to.

Katsuki felt a pang in his chest and swallowed thickly. He had cried enough for the day. He had to man the fuck up and get over it. It was just a fucking building.

His eyes travelled up to the second floor (up one, over three), immediately finding and lingering on the familiar door. He couldn't see much of anything from here, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to.

Katsuki didn't know how long he stood there just staring at the unchanging door that hadn't changed for the years he had known it (so then why the fuck would it have done so now?). He couldn't help but wonder what it looked like inside that door. Had it changed at all? Of course it had. He would be a fool to think that it was the same as the last time he was there.

When _had_ he last been inside? It didn't really fucking matter now. What he would go inside for wasn't there anymore, so why should he care? …why should he care?

But Katsuki did care. He cared very deeply. Too much at times.

He was shaken from his trance as the door he had been watching so intensely began to open.

'Shit!' He shouldn't be here. She wouldn't want to see him, and even if she did, he didn't want her to see him. She had always accepted him, and he didn't know if he could handle it if she looked at him like he had taken the world away (even if he knew he had). But even more so, he didn't know if he could handle it if she accepted him again all the same.

So for the third time in about just as many days, Katsuki ran.

She wouldn't have been able to see him, wouldn't have recognized him even if she could. He could have hidden until she left. He could have just kept walking past the apartment building. He could have stayed, have talked, have done something. He could have done a lot of things. He always did the wrong one.

Katsuki ran and didn't look back. As weak as he was, he could never stand and face his problems. He couldn't even fucking try to fight back. Even if it had been useless, he could have. People weaker than him had done so, and he had mocked them for it. Funny that he was so much weaker than the people he had taunted. He wasn't even strong enough to fight.

So Katsuki did nothing but run.


	3. Chapter 2: Crawling Beneath the Flesh

Chapter 2! Woohoo!

This one's a little shorter than the last one, but I didn't want to force anything more into the chapter, so…

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: Crawling Beneath the Flesh

Despite running away, Katsuki ended up outside the apartment the next day and the one after that. It seemed that regardless of where his wandering began or what his thoughts were along the way, he ended up outside the rather bland building.

He hadn't seen movement since that first visit, and part of him was still that cocky brat he had always been, so he had been creeping closer and closer each day as though tempting fate to unleash its darkest punishment. If that punishment took the form of an aging green-haired housewife then that was only as much as he deserved.

By Thursday he had progressed to the point where he was blatantly just sitting around on the second floor of the apartment complex, staring occasionally at the red door with the familiar name plaque hanging beside it but primarily looking out at the street below. He sometimes thought he recognized the faces that passed along, but that could have easily just been his imagination wanting to think everything in this place was familiar.

He watched for a long while even as the shadows grew longer like fingers stretching across the spine of the street, reaching for something they could never touch.

It was only out of pure coincidence that Katsuki happened to be looking at the door when it began opening. For a moment the shock overwhelmed him, preventing him from moving or doing anything at all. That moment was long enough for her to see him.

Their eyes met, complimentary colors spiraling with the same overwhelmed emotions. Both in shock- albeit most probably for vastly different reasons- they could say nothing at all for a long while.

She was the one to recover first, gasping just a bit as though she still wasn't quite sure that he was real. "Oh!" She peered at him as though trying to discern his thoughts, trying to peel back the facades upon his face. "Katsuki…!"

The boy's mouth gaped wide, jaw working soundlessly as though words that couldn't pry themselves from his mind were tickling his tongue. He licked his lips, chewed on them, opened his mouth, closed it again. His mouth did everything but speak.

"It's you," she stated redundantly. It seemed that she too was trying to work through her shock. At least she could vocalize it.

"Ah," Katsuki nearly groaned, forcing some sound to finally land in the tense air between them. He perpetuated the redundancy, "Well, yes, erm… H-hello Mrs. Midoriya."

The older woman shifted where she still stood, trapped in the liminal space of the doorway. She was between the safety of her home and the possibility of distress of Katsuki, trapped between continuing her previous facade and shattering it with something new. She didn't yet know which she would choose. She was nervous to do so, scared of what it would mean if she didn't.

"What…" She struggled over how to begin the conversation she didn't know if she wanted to start. "What was it you wanted?"

And wasn't that a loaded question! What did he want? Well if Katsuki knew that he wouldn't be there; he wouldn't be in therapy. Maybe that wasn't accurate but still. There were a lot of things that Katsuki wanted, and he truly believed in his heart that absolutely none of them was realistic.

Katsuki was the one to shift awkwardly now. "I- er- just was in the neighborhood, and I wanted to, uh, well, I wanted um- it doesn't matter!" He cut himself off, getting ready to run once more. That was all he was good at these days, and really that was the only true choice here. He quickly continued, anxious to escape. "I'll just go now. Sorry for bothering you; this was stupid."

Inko burst out of the door, arm coming up to try to prevent him from leaving. "No! Wait."

He couldn't get past her without physically touching her, and that was even more terrifying than the concept of talking to her. His gaze shifted around the hallway, looking anywhere but at her. He tried to scoot and squeeze past, looking for a way to escape as he stumbled over his excuses. It was pure word vomit at its finest. "I really should have thought about this before I came to you and there wasn't really a reason and I'm sorry for bothering you or whatever-"

"No, really. It's alright Katsuki-kun." Inko assured him, her gaze softening at his sincerity.

"But it's not!" He made the mistake of looking her in the eyes as he argued. Katsuki was suddenly drowning in the empathy that swirling in the emerald orbs. His excuses started to sound even more rushed and desperate even to himself. "I'm just showing up here and didn't even think about how you'd feel or what I'd say to you or that you'd have something else to say or, or- or…"

"Really. It's fine." Katsuki could feel the last of his arguments die at those words. What was the point in denying the inevitable when it was in fact exactly what he wanted.

"Would you like to come inside?" Inko asked as she watched the tension to escape drain from him.

Katsuki nodded wordlessly, suddenly feeling much more exhausted. Arguing about anything was useless.

She turned back to the front door that still hung ajar, making her way into the familiar hallway with a familiar occupant following behind her.

The apartment was much the same as Katsuki remembered though the hallway that they walked in order to reach the living room seemed much shorter, much smaller. Had it always been like this? Of course it had. He had just grown up.

Mrs. Midoriya had aged too. There were a few noticeable streaks of grey streaming amongst the many strands of green hair. She had pronounced lines on her face that only aged her even further.

She seemed to Katsuki to be much like the apartment itself. They were both much smaller and more fragile than he remembered, dappled with dust and age that seemed beyond their years. Stress did that to houses as much as to people. They were familiar but changed. Too same, too different.

They reached the living room quicker than he would have preferred. He still didn't want to face the inevitable.

"Here." Inko said as they entered the cozy room. She gestured to the couch. "Make yourself at home. I'll make us some tea."

"No, it's fine. I'll just-"

"No, no, I insist."

"Mm," Katsuki wordlessly agreed, relenting. It seemed they both didn't want to begin this conversation. Or maybe Inko was just much more attuned to other people and could sense his need to have a moment to organize his thoughts. Based on his performance outside in the hallway just minutes before, it wasn't very difficult to see that Katsuki may benefit from just a moment to compose himself and his ideas.

So Inko left him alone in the living room while she made tea in the kitchen. Katsuki looked around from where he sat awkwardly, primly perched on the edge of the couch. He didn't want to get too comfortable. His mind was restless, and so his body could do nothing to argue but instead just follow suit.

He looked around and saw various nicknacks that hadn't changed since as far back as he could remember. Amongst them were many framed photos. There were two set apart that Katsuki couldn't help but focus on. The first was a new one amongst them that Katsuki could not say he recognized. It was too recent, too exact. The one beside it was from a memory so intimate that it cut to his soul. It was too familiar, too nostalgic.

Inko soon came back with the tea. She could have taken an eternity, but Katsuki was too lost in his own thoughts to notice or care if that was the case.

They sat in something that approached comfort for the first couple minutes as they nursed their cups of tea. The beverage was too hot for them to really sip from it yet, but it was better to pretend that they had this task than to focus on the real topic at hand.

In the end, it was Inko who began the conversation, of course.

"So what was on your mind?" she asked.

"…" What was he supposed to say to that? He felt his eyebrows curving inward to form a frown.

"Katsuki-kun…" she tried to prompt him.

"Sorry," he instinctively apologized, shaking off the lines on his brow. "I just… I don't know anymore."

They sat in silence for a long while once more. Katsuki sighed. "I just wandered here and really I didn't mean to bother you. But I've been thinking a lot recently about a lot of things, and- I don't know really anymore. Maybe something was calling me here as though there were something I had to do or something. It's stupid, but it is what it is."

It was a pathetic excuse and did nothing to explain the truth of the situation. Katsuki knew somewhere deep in his mind exactly what he wanted to say, but he couldn't vocalize it. Or perhaps more accurately he didn't want to voice it. Voicing it made it real in a way it wasn't yet. He couldn't. He didn't know if he could handle if it was real.

"What've you been thinking about?" It was soft in a way that Katsuki had grown unaccustomed to, sincere and earnest and full of warmth. People didn't often direct words towards him these days, and even when they did, they never sounded like this unless they were paid to do so.

It was as though that had been the prompt that Katsuki was waiting for, the cue to let loose the torrent of thoughts that now flowed from his mouth. "I needed to do something for you, say something," he had to say this now. There was an incessant need, a necessity for these thoughts to escape his skin and let the words finally be aired.

"I just don't really know what I should say. I don't know what I _can_ say. Everything sounds wrong in my head, and I know it'll never be enough. But I guess I'll just say it as simple as I can make it because there's nothing else, and you deserve so much more, but-" He took a deep breath and blurted out, "I'm sorry!" It came out louder than the rest, the volatile chemical of apologies being exposed to air resulting in an explosion of sound.

It left him feeling weary once it was said, and his next words dragged themselves into the world, conjuring despair to land heavily in the air. "I can't do more, can't make it right or change the past or fucking anything. Sorry, language. God I'm such a screw up. I can't even apologize right. I'm sorry. It'll never be enough but there's nothing else I can say. I'm just so sorry, so, so, so, so, _so…_ "

Katsuki's words devolved into sobs, face buried in his open palms. He pushed against his closed eyelids as though trying to force the tears to keep themselves inside his body. It was a futile effort. His shoulders quaked as he tried not to voice the cries.

Suddenly arms, familiar and strong and warm, were engulfing him. Startled, his breath hitched into a gasp as he looked up, confusion blowing his eyes wide. All he could see was the dark green of Midoriya Inko's hair.

"W-wha-?" The word trickled out in bewilderment.

"It's a hug, Katsuki-kun," he could hear the grin on her lips, easy sarcasm breaking the anxiety that had edged in with the confusion before it had the time to settle.

Her humour did nothing to ease the sheer befuddlement her simple action of genuine affection had created within Katsuki however. "B-but I don't-" he stuttered. "I'm not- you shouldn't…"

"There's never anything wrong with giving a hug to someone who needs it." Inko gripped his shoulders and pulled him back so she could meet his gaze directly. She needed him to realize her sincerity. Her emotions as real as the tears in her voice and eyes.

Katsuki closed his eyes as she pulled him close once more. He did nothing to fight it, but instead he leaned in, burying his face into her shoulder and hair. He closed his eyes as he brought his hands around her in return, gripping tightly at her shirt. She grounded him to the shattered reality that they both shared. It did nothing to erase the past mistakes, but neither did it ignore the very real emotions of the present, and it promised hope for the future.

He needed this. Oh God, did he _need_ this.

He gripped her even tighter as his shoulders began to shake. He could feel as here body also began to quiver. Sobs sounded in the air, both of their voices mixing together until it was impossible to tell them apart. They were the only two people who could feel these emotions; they were the only two people who could fully understand each other.

By the time they finally calmed their cries, Katsuki felt entirely drained of energy. He was weak and tired, but he was more whole than he had felt in months. It was late. He didn't want to think about what that implied. He didn't want to leave this moment as though if he did, it would somehow dissipate back into nonexistence.

It was made even worse somehow by the first words that were uttered into this new, altered state of reality that Katsuki now found himself in. She couldn't have known, so he couldn't find it in himself to blame her.

"Do you want me to call your parents to let them know you'll be back soon?" Inko asked, looked concernedly at the late time.

"Won't matter," Katsuki muttered simply.

"What do you mean?" Inko's brow furrowed in that way it did whenever she was growing concerned over someone else. He recognized it from all those many injuries from childhood. He never liked whatever followed. An righteously angered Midoriya was always a rather terrifying sight.

"They don't really care anymore, not really," Katsuki sounded resigned. "I don't blame them. I don't care either."

Inko sighed, "You know that's not true."

He scoffed, glaring at the floor. "They haven't hugged me like that since a year ago. Mom won't even look at me."

"Katsuki-kun…" It made Katsuki feel bad that Inko sounded so broken at that statement, but there was nothing to be done. There was no changing the truth, and he was beyond caring.

"It's fine," It was all the solace he could offer. "It's my problem. I brought this on myself."

"Well," There was that conniving tone in Inko's voice that had always terrified Katsuki just a bit when he was younger. (If it had the same effect now, Katsuki wasn't sharing.) "If you need another hug, I guess you'll just have to come back and visit me."

"You-you'd want that?" When he had finally encountered her, he had never dared hope that this would be the result of their conversation. He had only dreamed of being yelled at for a short time before being sent away with a threat to never return again. Anything more wishful would seem an improbable fantasy, and yet…

"I can't say I'd mind some company every now and then," Inko prompted again.

"I won't bother you too much," Katsuki promised, fearful that he'd screw this up too before it even really began. He met her eyes to ensure she knew he was taking this very seriously.

"You're not a bother," she promised.

Katsuki hesitated for a moment before he voiced his desire. "C-can I stay? Just a little longer tonight?"

"Mm." Inko hummed in agreement, nodding softly just once. There was a warm smile on her lips. "You stay as long as you like. I can get out of a futon if you need it."

While her offer was undoubtedly appealing, Katsuki couldn't force himself into this house any longer. If he stayed the night, she might change her mind; she might realize the mistake she had made in extending such kindness. And besides, Katsuki didn't know if he could handle sleeping over either. There was something too familiar about that that wasn't the same as just talking with Inko.

"No." Katsuki finally said. "I can't impose any more than I already have. Just a little longer. Just… just until I have the strength again to leave."

"I suppose that's good enough for now," as though eventually he would spend the night, as though things would go back to how they once had been.

"Mrs. Midoriya?" Katsuki called out hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Words out of his lips had never sounded so quiet and sincere.

"Of course," she could hear all the words in his gratitude that he hadn't voiced.

They sit in content silence for a long while, neither willing to disrupt the ease that now lingered in the air. The emotions still hung around, but they weren't the only thoughts now present in the room. Those new thoughts weren't enough to fully heal the wounds caused by the old emotions, but it was a start. Neither wanted to upset the current equilibrium, scared that one word could send it toppling back into an even worse state than it was previously.

Finally, Katsuki looked at the time again. "I really should go."

"Of course," Inko agreed.

Despite their words, neither moved.

Eventually, Katsuki sighed again. "I have school and-" _therapy_ "stuff tomorrow."

"Alright."

He did manage to stand this time, stretching as he did so. He felt lighter than before, but there were new knots in his shoulders. Perhaps they weren't new, but now he could finally notice them for once. Regardless, he felt weary and sore.

They walked to the door in silence.

Katsuki turned back to face Inko when they reached the door. He still had more that _needed_ to get out. "Good night. Thank you for everything. For letting me stay, for listening, for not immediately kicking me out. You're too nice for your own good. And like I said, I really am sorry. I know it's not much, it's never going to be enough, but I need to say it as many times as I can. Maybe someday it'll be enough times." He doubted it.

Inko looked thoughtful. "Katsuki?"

"Yeah?"

"I visit him every weekend." There was no need to say who the "him" was. "Would you like to come with on Saturday? He'd appreciate it, I know."

"I shouldn't," was Katsuki's immediate response. He suddenly found it hard to look her in the eyes again.

"It'll be good for you, I think," she tried to reason.

"I don't deserve it." He didn't.

"But he does."

Katsuki had no argument for that.

He sighed and looked up at her again, "Maybe you're right."

A content smile spread across her cheeks. She looked genuinely excited. "Then I'll see you Saturday morning!"

"I guess so…" he was still hesitant.

He turned and opened the door, moving out into the hallway in silence. He looked back one final time to where Inko stood reminiscent to when he had first encountered her that day. She stood in the liminal space of the doorway, but she seemed much more vibrant and certain than earlier. He had done that, done something good for once.

"Have a good night Katsuki," she said one last goodbye.

"You too," he offered back simply.

It wasn't enough.

Katsuki couldn't believe that anything he could ever do would ever be enough, but here and now, this seemed even less sufficient. She had offered him so much, so much to share and to heal, but he could do nothing at all it seemed. She would never tell him that either, but he knew the truth of that fact. It was ingrained in him.

When he exited his house the next morning, Katsuki turned the opposite direction than he usually went. For the first time in a long while, he walked past the apartment building that still housed one Midoriya and the memories of another.

He took the short route to school.


	4. Chapter 3: Approaching an Encounter

So here's chapter 3!

This one is also a little shorter than I would have liked, but I didn't want to force this one and chapter 4 together. It just didn't feel right. Plus it would've made for a disparately long chapter…

Sadly no visiting Izuku in this chapter. That's next time, but I have most of it written, so it might even be out as soon as tomorrow! (tbh I had way more ideas for that chapter than for this one, so I wrote a lot of it instead of this one…)

So, yes, I'm sorry because I know a lot of you were waiting for Izuku stuff, but eh… Have some foreshadowing and preamble-y stuff instead.

I hope you enjoy regardless of any tarnished expectations!

Chapter 3: Approaching an Encounter

Despite the fact that Katsuki now found himself capable of the remedial exercise of walking past the building that housed the Midoriya apartment, it was still Friday, and he still had to attend therapy. Even though Katsuki was feeling the best he had felt in months that did not stop the unavoidable edge of anxiety that absorbed him when he thought of his forced sessions.

While it was undeniable that they were beneficial to his mental health, they left Katsuki feeling ragged and worn and always much more emotional. He was closer to that old self in too many ways when he was there.

Luckily at least the sessions by now followed the same standard formatting that Katsuki understood and easily followed.

"Hello again, Katsuki-kun," Dr. Hiruluk greeted as he put his backpack down and took his place on his chair, sideways as usual, as though he had never even left.

"Hello," Katsuki greeted in return. This sort of ease in response at the onset of the session was rather unusual but not entirely out of character.

"So how was this week?" It was always the same questions to begin with.

And for the most part, Katsuki answered in the same fashion every week; however, now was a week of firsts. So instead of an unhappy grunt of everything being the same as always (if he even vocalized at all), Katsuki let out a simple, "Better."

Dr. Hiruluk was clearly taken aback, but his surprise swiftly turned into excited intrigue. "How so?" He asked.

"I did what you asked me to," Katsuki stated lazily, looking at the ceiling with just the barest hints of an honest smile on his lips.

"And?" There was an almost ecstatic sound in the single-word question. "Did you talk with someone at school?"

"W-well I did," Katsuki relented. His smile dropped from his face as he thought of that first disastrous attempt at conversation. "I tried. At first."

When it became apparent that Katsuki was becoming too withdrawn into his headspace and would not be offering anything more without a little prompting, Hiruluk offered a subtle prodding, "Go on."

"Well," Katsuki sighed before his thoughts burst out in a rush from his mind and mouth. "It was the girl who sits in front of me, and so I thought I might as well, you know, try to talk to her if I was gonna talk to anyway. She was there, and I just thought that she seemed like she'd be easy to talk to. She's not annoying or super shy or mean or well, I guess, she was pretty average, so I would just talk, and that would be that, and if it didn't work out then at least I tried right? But I…

"You?" Dr. Hiruluk was leaning forward in his seat, utterly invested in hearing what Katsuki's ventures in middle school socialization would result in.

"I fucked it up," he ground out, teeth clenched tight as he remembered how he grabbed her wrist. 'So fucking _stupid_.' "I couldn't even talk to one girl without making a stupid mistake. And afterwards…

"Afterwards, I couldn't even apologize. I was useless. She asked the teacher to switch seats the next day so now this other chick with hair that can reach the ceiling sits in front of me. She's obnoxious, but at least the other girl seems happier. I still catch her sometimes looking over at me as though she's scared I'm gonna beat the shit out of her or something…" Katsuki would be scared of himself too.

Dr. Hiruluk sighed, disappointed that his recommendation seemed only to hurt the boy's interactions and attitude towards them. "I'm sorry that you couldn't connect with your peers Katsuki. These things take time. She clearly just wasn't the right fit, but maybe next time, you'll find someone who you can connect with better."

"Hmm," Katsuki hummed in what may have been agreement. He wasn't at all convinced that anyone would willingly become friends, but maybe someday he'd get to the point where his classmates weren't scared if he so much as said a single word to them. Ha!

"But what else happened?" Dr. Hiruluk interrupted Katsuki's thoughts before they ran too bleak. "You said that this week was better, so what happened that made it that way?"

"On Thursday. So yesterday I guess." Katsuki squirmed in his seat and ran a hand through his hair, a different lighter sort of nervous energy zapping through him. "God! It feels like it was forever ago now. Well, I've been walking by th-the Midoriya's apartment building since that shit with the girl in my class happened on Monday, and on Thursday I was walking past, or through, I guess, or not really walking but just you know hanging around, and uh, Mrs. Midoriya saw me."

"And how did that go?"

"She was. She," Katsuki licked his lips, anxiety creeping in to take the place of that happier nervousness. "She was nicer to me than anyone's been in months. She invited me in for tea and offered to let me stay the night, and I must have said sorry a thousand times and thanked her almost as many, and she was just-

"It was like nothing had changed. She accepted me, she _hugged_ me, like nothing had ever gone wrong. I didn't deserve it, but it didn't matter to her. She's always been like that, but the fact that she was still that way towards me of all people, I just… She's too nice. But it really helped. I needed her, and I hadn't even realized it."

"And how did she seem to feel afterwards?" Dr. Hiruluk wondered.

"I. I want to think that I helped her too." That was his only hope. "We were both crying. And I think we were the only ones who could really understand, you know. Like, no one else still remembers it, still feels it like we do. And yeah, it was like nothing had changed, but there was still that knowledge that for us, and only us, _everything_ had changed."

"Mm," the doctor hummed in quiet agreement.

Dr. Hiruluk didn't begin his next line of questioning immediately even though his curiosity was thoroughly piqued. Katsuki needed the quiet more right here and now, so they sat in silence for a moment, a necessary hush.

"She invited me to go see him tomorrow," Katsuki eventually offered without any prompting outside of his own mind.

"Oh?" More than anything else that had been said, Dr. Hiruluk was sincerely taken aback by that.

"Yeah," Katsuki didn't know what else to say about it.

"And are you?" the doctor asked.

"I told her I was gonna go, but now," Katsuki hesitated, licking his lips once more. "Now it's taken time to settle, and I just don't know if I should. I- It's hard to explain, but I'm not sure if I'm allowed- Or I guess I don't know if I can- Or… I don't really know."

"Do you want to go?"

"I-I guess I…" Katsuki sighed. "Yeah…"

"Do you think Mrs. Midoriya wants you to go?"

Katsuki scoffed at that ridiculous question. "She would never say no if I said that I really wanted to. Besides, she wouldn't have offered if she didn't want me to come."

"And," Dr. Hiruluk leaned forward in his chair, glasses glinting where they perched on his nose, already knowing the answer to his next question, but needing Katsuki to hear the answer as well. "What about Izuku? Do you think he would want you to go?"

Katsuki's breath hitched as he reeled a bit in shock. "I-" It came out as more of a gasp. He took a rattling breath. "Yeah, I think he would."

"And there's your answer," the doctor concluded. "I think this visit is more about what he deserves then what you think or worry about. Your feelings are important, and I'm not trying to diminish them, but in this case, I think you must defer to Izuku's desires."

"I- I guess it's the least I can do," Katsuki relented.

"That's all we ever ask."

Katsuki looked up at his therapist at that, and the two shared a sincere and secret smile. He felt lighter than he had in months, maybe even years.

Despite the ease he had felt in talking during therapy that day and the joy he had experienced when Dr. Hiruluk had said that if he continued with his current rate of progress, they might begin meeting every other week, despite all that, Katsuki still felt the ripples of anxiety and self-deprecation as the sun began to set.

It always got harder when the sky lit up like an explosion before falling into the dark abyss of death. The clouds covered all the stars tonight, making it even darker.

His thoughts always fell into the same line of darkness, wandering into the deep parts of his mind that Katsuki never enjoyed touching but always made themselves known at night. It was harder to believe in the possibility of change, of improvement, when the whole world seemed so dark and empty.

It got worse when it finally came time for Katsuki to lay in his bed and attempt to sleep, utterly alone with his thoughts.

He tossed and turned for a few hours, often staring blankly, unseeing, at his ceiling. He was able to stop thinking for those moments when he was looking straight up, but it was a stagnant facade at peace; there was no true rest in it. Whenever his eyes sank shut, the thoughts would come rushing back, bolting him into uneasy awareness straight away.

He could not ignore his thoughts. After a while, he decided to relent to the futility of the exercise and picked himself out of his bed.

Katsuki pulled on a pair of loose black sweatpants to go with the sweatshirt he was already wearing, needing something more comfortable than the slacks of his uniform that he usually wore. He shoved his hands deep into pockets alongside his phone, wallet, and house keys before making his way as quietly as possible out of his room and through the front door.

It was too early, before anything was open, but Katsuki liked that at least the birds were out. There was more to look at out here before the early dawn than inside the dark, small, enclosed space of his room.

His meandering through mind brought him to the school building (where he turned rather melancholy), around to the park (where he watched the sun begin to peak over the horizon), and back towards his house before he thought it was late enough to go to the Midoriya apartment.

It was still rather early, just after sunrise, but Inko had never specified when it was Katsuki should arrive. His reasoning told him to get there as early as possible in order to not inconvenience her; his nerves told him not to show at all in order to not inconvenience her.

He counted the stairs going up to the second floor of the apartment building a grand total of five times to pass a few more minutes before finally coming to stand in front of the door to the Midoriya's apartment.

He spent a couple more minutes just staring at it, noting the worn edges, the scuffed paint that had worn away from younger hands bursting through the door in excitement. Katsuki had caused many of those blemishes himself.

He raised his hand to knock. Then brought it back down. Looked at it. Sighed. Brought the hand back up. Sighed some more. Repeated this several times.

Finally he brought the fist up with such vigor that he practically punched the door in an effort to knock before he was overcome by the weight of his own thoughts once again. He winced at the hard crashing sound his fist made before knocking in a more uniform matter a bit more politely.

It took another few moments before the door was answered. Fucking great! He had clearly interrupted something.

"Katsuki-kun!" Inko gasped as she caught glimpse of him.

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "Um hi. Er, I guess I mean, good morning Mrs. Midoriya."

"You're here early," she commented simply, looking a bit worried as she glanced him over, trying to ensure that nothing was outwardly wrong with the boy.

"Uh, yeah," Katsuki agreed. He didn't know what to do or say. He had clearly made a mistake, or maybe she hadn't really been serious when she invited him, or…

His thought were full of possibilities as silence spread between them. Inko didn't comment on his sweatshirt even though she clearly recognized it. They both lingered in the silence of their own raging thoughts for just a moment.

This time it was Katsuki who broke the silence, fumbling for words to explain his actions. "We never really picked a time to meet, so I didn't know, and I couldn't sleep, and I-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Inko quietly assured. "Why don't you come in?"

Katsuki let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you."

"Of course." What else was there to say?

He followed her through the hallway to the living room once more before they came to stop in silence again. Inko turned to face him once more, but instead of speaking, she pulled him into a warm hug.

It was shorter, less charged with emotion than the other day's had been. It was a simple sort of thing that shouldn't have meant as much as it did for Katsuki.

"What was that for?" He asked after their arms had fallen back to their sides.

"You just looked like you needed it," Inko said as though it were as simple as that. For her perhaps it was, but to Katsuki, deprived of affection from others (and often his own mind as well) as he was, those simple tender embraces meant the world.

"Thanks…" Emotions tightened his throat, but they were light and happy and content.

Inko smiled easily. "You can just lay down on the sofa for a bit while I make us some breakfast, alright?"

"Mm," Katsuki hummed in agreement as Inko walked towards the kitchen.

He took off his shoes before laying down across the cushions, his mind now so much more at peace than it was in his house. And wasn't it sad that he felt more at home here in a place he had only visited twice in these past few days as he had in as many years?

Katsuki didn't mind so much that he felt displaced in his own home when he was so content in this one, so he quickly dozed off, finally able to sleep.

Inko covered him in a blanket when she came to check on him and postponed breakfast for another couple hours.

When Katsuki did eventually wake, it was to Inko gently shaking his shoulder. He felt so much more refreshed even though he had only been able to sleep for just over two hours. He was also famished.

Breakfast was a slow, quiet affair, the weight of the knowledge of where they would be going hanging heavily over the table. It wasn't silent in an awkward sort of way, but rather it was a necessary hush, each too lost in their own world to talk aloud with the other.

Katsuki finished his food at the same time as Inko. He could have eaten more, but his desire to be as unimposing as possible beat any semblance of hunger.

They didn't bother lingering around the house. They both knew that trying to pretend they didn't know what was coming would make it impossible to really relax. There was no point in trying to act like the day was going to be normal.

They walked to the train station and were on their way before ten o'clock even hit.

By the time they reached their destination, Katsuki was regretting every life choice that had led him to where he was. He was half a second away from running down the unknown streets, getting lost in the city, and never, ever returning.

It was only the solid presence of Midoriya Inko that kept him attached to reality, tethered to the necessity of what he was about to do.

Katsuki took a deep breath of fresh air before he sacrificed himself to the bland white walls and artificial purity of the hospital.


	5. Chapter 4: Izuku

And now chapter 4!

Like I said last chapter, I had a lot of this written, so I was able to crank out the final touches today! So here's the widely anticipated encounter with Izuku in which many questions are answered. I think… If anything is still unclear, ask me about it. Some of it might be intentional, but some of it might just be because I obviously do know all the background, so I assume it comes out clearer than it truly does.

So yeah! Thanks for all the continued support and especially thank you to everyone who has commented thus far! I love being able to interact directly with other fans! (Side note that you can also fangirl with me on Tumblr and Instagram where I go by washeranne if you wanna!)

WARNING: Katsuki does end up having an anxiety/panic attack situation that leads to him throwing up. As someone who is very much a sympathetic puker, I just wanted to warn anyone else who gets queasy reading that kind of stuff that it does come up briefly. It was real difficult for me to write, so it's real brief. But it is there.

On with the scheduled program!

Katsuki followed behind Inko in a sort of daze. Everything was strange and warped despite nothing much being out of the ordinary. It was hard to make sense of it all.

He thought they stopped at the front desk, may have talked to a doctor briefly- or was it a nurse- but the events and time and the people all sort of kaleidoscoped in his mind until it was difficult to separate reality from illusion.

It was when they paused outside of door marked room 217 that Katsuki abruptly found himself back inside his body.

His palms were sweaty. His breath was shallow. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. Katsuki was suddenly too aware of the world and his own placement in it.

Inko's opening of the door happened in slow motion; the breath hitched in Katsuki's throat.

He wanted- it was- the world- Inko should- Katsuki would-

Too late.

The room it was…

Quiet.

Still.

Dead?

 _No_.

It was too quiet. Too loud. His body was flushed with heat. The room was too cold. It was too bright. So dark he couldn't see the edges of the room. It was becoming uncomfortably cramped, walls pressing in against him. It was too wide; he couldn't make out the vast expanse. His feet moved sluggishly, too slow. He bolted before a single sound could be uttered.

Out the door and down the hall and squirming past faces he saw as no more than blurs, he burst through the bathroom door, a blessed single stall and threw himself towards the toilet.

He couldn't stop the bile that rushed through his throat. He was- it was terrible and disgusting, but maybe this would flush the contagion of his thoughts, cleanse the pestilence inherent to his being. His throat felt raw and coarse as his stomach clenched and squeezed and expunged itself from his body. He sobbed and heaved, shoulders quaking with the fatigue of rushing thoughts.

Slowly Katsuki came back to himself, realizing that his stomach and eyes were both empty now. His mind was much the same, weary with the weight it had expunged. Shadows of thoughts still drifted through his mind, but they were just lingering tendrils of dread that he was accustomed to brushing through.

God! He was stupid.

He knew what he was expecting when he came here, knew what would be waiting, knew he wouldn't enjoy it. But he still couldn't stand there for even a single fucking second. The reality had been even worse than what his nightmares had led him to anticipate.

Sure, he had had worse, more brutal and tragic ponderings of how today, how a visit with Izuku, would go, but they weren't real.

There was something about the reality of now that made it worse than any horrific imagining could be.

But today wasn't supposed to be about him. This visit was about what Izuku would want, not about what Katsuki's nightmares were.

He needed to apologize to Izuku for himself, but Izuku needed to hear it even more.

There was a hesitant knock on the door.

"Katsuki-kun?" Inko's nervous murmur called.

He didn't respond aloud, but picked himself off the ground and opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes but instead robotically turned his back as soon as the door was no longer separating them.

Inko followed him inside the single stall, nervously wringing her hands as she looked over at where Katsuki was now flushing the toilet. There was a steady determination in him now, but it seemed deadened, monotonous and forced.

She didn't say anything as she watched him gargle water and vigorously scrub at his teeth and hands as though trying to scrape away an invisible layer of filth that only Katsuki could see even long after the taste and scent of vomit had left his mouth and skin.

There was nothing she could say that would help him, and they both knew it. The reassuring silence was enough for now.

When he was finally finished, Katsuki looked her in the eyes, serious and resolved.

Inko stepped forward, catching the weary boy in her arms, offering silent comfort in the only way she knew how.

Katsuki was empty of tears, and he felt just as drained of emotion, but he clung to Inko with the same ferocity he had when he cried his heart out. She was the only thing that held him upright, and while he knew somewhere deep in his mind that that wasn't very fair for her, he couldn't find it in himself to care in that moment.

When he finally felt steady enough in mind and body to stand by himself, his grip loosened from her shoulders and his arms unwound. Katsuki moved to pull away from her completely and walk out the door; however, Inko stopped him before he could move an arm's length away from her.

She gripped his hand tightly in her own and instead led him out into the hallway once more.

Katsuki needed her strength if he was to make it back to Izuku's room, and they both knew it. She grounded him to reality, her hand firm and warm and so much stronger than Katsuki felt he could ever be were he in her shoes.

This time when Katsuki walked behind Inko into Izuku's room, he took a steadying breath before looking at the silent form of the green-haired boy. He was a solitary spot of familiar color amidst a sea of pristine white. His skin was too pale; his breath was too shallow; he lacked all the _life_ Katsuki associated with Izuku.

Inko pulled Katsuki by the arm until he was right beside the unconscious boy. Only then did she finally drop his hand, satisfied that Katsuki wouldn't be running away again any time soon.

Katsuki found himself too entranced with Izuku's face to notice anything happening around him. His hands, now free, moved slowly, stutteringly towards Izuku's still one. He hesitated just before they touched, suddenly terrified of marring the fragile flesh.

Inko nudged Katsuki forward, forcing his hands to abruptly come into contact with the other boy's.

Katsuki' breath hitched in panicked shock, but it was overwhelmed by the reality of the sensation. Izuku was cold against Katsuki's heated flesh; he always was. There were familiar bumps and rough calluses that connected both their hands. Something so nostalgic that it brought tears back to Katsuki's eyes once more.

They were bitter and melancholic, but somehow so much more content than any tears Katsuki had ever shed before. He cherished them so that he couldn't even let them fall.

"I'm going to step out for a moment and complete some paperwork, alright Katsuki-kun?" The acknowledgement that this meant Katsuki would be alone to talk freely to Izuku went unsaid as Inko stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind her.

Katsuki didn't bother to watch her leave, too intent on watching every individual piece of Izuku, memorizing every feature, every bump on his knuckles, every twitch under his eyelids, every individual freckle on his cheeks.

Once the two had languished in the silence for a long moment, Katsuki sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. He dropped the other boy's hand, brushing through his hair instead.

"Hey Izuku," he greeted quietly, frowning just a bit at his own words. "Man, and doesn't that feel weird to call you? You probably wouldn't even recognize me if I called you that. You probably wouldn't even want me to call you that… you damn nerd…"

Silence drifted in the room once again. "I had to work for a while to teach myself to call you that," Katsuki finally admitted. "Sometimes I still slip up in my head, and you might say that it doesn't matter if it's in my head. But I'm mostly talking to myself these days, and it matters to me. So there.

"Even if I _am_ talking to people, I don't mention you a lot. I just- I feel like if I mention you, the worst of me will come out. Either that or I'll have to acknowledge that you aren't there now. And of course they'd eventually ask where did you go? Well I just put him in the fucking hospital so!"

The silence was back again as Katsuki fumed in his own failures. "God," he sighed. "I'm such a fuckup aren't I?"

There was no reply, so Katsuki made up his own. "You'd probably argue with me if you were awake and tell me about how I'm great at everything, so I can't possibly be a fuckup. Ha!" The single bark of laughter sounded anything but happy; it was harsh and self-deprecating.

He shook his head. "Now there's a laugh. I can't believe I used to actually think I was good at anything. Sure, I could do some shit. I'm smart enough, strong enough, but I fail at everything that really matters.

"Sure I could make it in a hero program easy, but you're the one with the mind for it, with the heart to back it up.

"I'd probably hurt more people than I ever saved…"

Katsuki's mind became overwhelmed with the possibilities and probabilities and utter impossibilities. There was so much he wanted that could never be realized; too much was already set in stone. The silence pervaded the room again.

"But," Katsuki eventually sighed. "I've been getting better. Or trying at least. Trying to be a better hero I mean."

He would probably like it if Katsuki talked more about heroes, so that's what Katsuki did. "Speaking of heroes, I've been looking through your old hero journals, and holy shit. I know I never really appreciated how smart you are besides the need I felt to make sure that I was always smarter.

"But I could never hope to beat you in regards to heroes. You could get a hero job just based on your ability to analyze quirks!" That would have been bitter to swallow before, but now it was the knowledge that Izuku might never even know that truth that flavored Katsuki's mouth in disgust.

"I've made a few notes in the twelfth book," Katsuki admitted self-consciously. "But nothing as good as yours. I don't know, I just thought that maybe I could keep it going so when you wake up, you won't have to spend months catching up."

Katsuki said it as a certainty despite his lack of full belief. Whenever something was said in the world (and especially if he was the one saying it) it somehow became more real, more true, and Katsuki could only accept one possibility as full truth.

"I've been wearing your sweatshirt a lot too. I get why you like it so much. It's really warm and cozy like a good hug," Katsuki blanched at his own words. "And isn't that just the sappiest shit? Jesus fuck! You wouldn't even be able to tell that was me if you were awake.

"If you were awake…

"But," Katsuki gritted his teeth. "That's just it. You're not. You're not, and it's all my fault. And I know I've told your mom like a million times just today, but I'm sorry. If I could take it back, change the past, move my arm just a bit. Not done it at all! Snapped some sense into my fucking head! Then I'd do it. Do _anything_ to make it right. To just get a chance to stop myself from making the stupidest mistake of my life.

"Or even better: go further back and stop myself when I was younger. Told the little shit to get over myself and just take your fucking hand. Do my fucking job and protect you instead of the exact fucking opposite.

"I'd do anything. Anything. Anything…"

There was no response. Katsuki wasn't expecting one. He was the only one to blame for that impossibility.

Katsuki shook his head and sighed again. "But you'd have forgiven me even before I got the first apology out. You'd be following me like always regardless of what I did or said or- You were always there. That's what always annoyed me the most. You, quirkless little stupid brat, were always just behind me in everything regardless of what I tried.

"We were both little shits huh?" The rhetorical question came out fondly, nostalgic melancholy coloring the words.

"You were so much better though, so much nicer, so much happier. So of course I had to ruin that too huh?" Katsuki's tone turned bitter again. "Just like everything else I touch.

"I don't think you understand, don't think you would understand even if you were awake, how much I'd do just to apologize, just to finally feel like it was sufficient for all the shit I've caused you to go through." He took a moment to reorganize his thoughts as that admission wavered through the thick silence of the hospital room.

"I decided that I'm gonna go to U.A," Katsuki announced. It was strange to hear that goal aloud for once. He hadn't spoken about attending the high school for a long while. "I've been thinking a lot about it recently. They're asking us to decide on high schools and careers and that shit in school right now so…"

He sighed. "But I don't know if I can use my Quirk.

"I haven't used it since that day," Katsuki admitted. It felt wrong to say it. Like he should be ashamed or _something_. The problem was he didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He just felt like whatever he was feeling was wrong in some way.

"I don't want to. It scares me," Katsuki's throat tightened. "Anything that reminds me too much of explosions scares me. So I don't know what I'll do. I could go Quirkless, really try to embody your spirit, but somehow, I think you'd like that even less…

"So," his voice hitched, choking on the knowledge of the inevitable and the emotions attached to it. "I guess that means I should probably get used to my Quirk again soon. The entrance exam isn't for another couple of months though.

"Maybe you'll be awake by the time I make it in?" Katsuki's voice took an upward inflection, embedded with unrealistic hopes.

"Even if you're not," his tone was flatter, more realistic once again. "I hope somewhere, wherever you are, if you can hear me, that you know I'm going to make our dream come true. I'll be the number one hero with your spirit guiding me every step of the way. I owe you that much at least.

"This is all for you. Everything I do now is. I deserve it. You deserve it more."

Katsuki swallowed past all the thoughts he hadn't voiced, all emotions he was still too weak to admit. He gripped Izuku's still hand, memorizing it with both of his own. He stared intently at Izuku's calm face, committing it all to memory.

"I'll see you soon hopefully. Izuku."

It would have felt wrong to say goodbye.

He stumbled on his way out, barely able to keep himself steady enough to escape the liminal abyss of the hospital room. He collapsed through the door, but Inko was there to catch him.

Katsuki feel limply into her arms, burying his face into her neck to cry once again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-" he sobbed the mantra into her shoulder, clinging tightly to stay upright.

Inko made quite shushing noises of comfort but never told him to stop his apologies. She recognized the need for what it was, knew inherently that most of what Katsuki did and said these days was necessary more for his own processing and coping than for anyone else. The only other person Katsuki really thought about was Izuku himself, and though none of it was really what she would have classified as healthy, this was the norm for him these days. The only way he could progress past it was to deal with thoughts and emotions as they came.

Eventually Inko had calmed him down enough for them to begin their walk back to the train station.

It was on their ride back that Inko finally spoke to Katsuki again, satisfied that she had given him enough time to silently reflect.

"While you were talking to Izuku I got clearance from the hospital for you to visit whenever you want to," she informed him. "Just tell the front desk your name and that you're there to see Izuku. You don't need me to see him now."

Katsuki looked at her in shock for a moment. His eyebrows slowly crept inward as the words sunk in, worried, anxious thoughts overcoming his initial joy.

"I don't think I should," he replied simply.

"I think it would be good for you."

"I don't think I can," Katsuki remedied, staring at the floor.

"We'll get there," she assured him, gently patting his arm in support.

"Mrs. Midoriya?" He looked back up into her eyes.

"Yes Katsuki-kun?"

"Thank you," the boy said as sincerely as he could express. "For everything."

"Of course."

There was nothing more that needed to be said. Much of their discussions happened in what wasn't said, what was felt and expressed between them without words. Words were often inadequate to express all they wanted, _needed_ , to say to each other.

Katsuki didn't go back to his house that night. He ate dinner with Inko, helped wash the dishes as a form of repayment, and slept on the couch that night. He didn't want to make her bring out a futon, and this was probably more comfortable anyway.

He fell asleep that night. He fell asleep feeling much more content and at peace than he had since long before he had hurt Izuku. It wasn't healed. It probably would never fully be. But he was making progress.

He fell asleep that night thinking of Izuku, but all his thoughts were light and airy and happy. He thought of all he said and all he still had left to say. He thought of his resolve to become a hero for when Izuku couldn't, his newfound commitment to try getting comfortable with his Quirk again.

He fell asleep that night thinking of Izuku, of visiting Izuku today, of seeing him again in the future, of being there when he woke up.

Maybe he'd be able to visit him by himself one day. No. He would visit Izuku by himself eventually.

Katsuki had too many maybes he regretted to add anymore while he could still change them.


	6. Chapter 5: Flowers of One Nature

Welp... It's been a while... On the bright side, I just completed my last real semester of college and wrote a 30 page thesis on A Midsummer Night's Dream! I say real semester because next semester, I'll be student teaching! I get to teach English and Theatre! Yay! CONTENT WARNING: On a more serious note, this chapter contains a hint of suicidal ideation and a general unhealthy mental state. So if that sort of thing causes discomfort, this might not be the chapter or fic in general for you. On another serious note, I want to dedicate this chapter to a close friend of mine who passed away this weekend. Ray was an amazingly talented guy who also loved BNHA, and it feels weird that finishing this chapter became somewhat of a coping mechanism, but I want to honor his memory in any way that I can. He was a great actor, cosplayer, and friend, and the world is just a bit darker without his sunshine smile to light it up. Thank you for all your patience and for supporting my work.

On Sunday, Katsuki left to go back to his own house but not until long after the sun had risen; on Sunday, Katsuki went back for dinner at the Midoriya apartment; on Sunday, Katsuki stayed for a great deal longer than just dinner; on Sunday, Katsuki began to wonder why he had even bothered leaving the apartment to begin with. He spent the night again. There was no point in leaving, no point in pretending.

It was while they were washing dishes after their meal that Katsuki finally found what little courage surged in him in order to admit his new goal to Inko. A part of him was still afraid that he was overstepping even after everything she had already done for him.

"I want to be a hero," he didn't look up from the plate he was drying in his hands.

"You always did," that familiar, content smile played across Inko's face.

But it was more than that childish dream that he had spouted for any and all to hear in those days that had long since past. It was so much more, and Inko needed to know that. "I want to be a hero," Katsuki repeated. "Like Izuku, _for_ Izuku."

The smile remained the same upon her face even if her eyes swam with a little more melancholic grief than before. "He'd like that."

"Yeah," the air was heavier now; a familiar lump of emotion was forming in Katsuki's throat. He scrubbed at the drying plate, blinking his eyes harshly, trying to keep himself composed. "I wanna think so. But…"

"But?" Inko continued washing the dishes, playing at ordinary monotony and routine.

Katsuki sighed, shoulders dragging down under the weight of everything he didn't want to admit. "I need to use my quirk to be a hero. Or at least to be the kind of hero I want to be, the kind of hero that Izuku would be proud of. If I just didn't use my quirk, Izuku'd probably just get offended on my behalf."

"He does have a bit of an obsession with them." There was a melancholic humor lilting her voice.

Katsuki gave a snort of laughter. "Now that's an understatement if I've ever heard one."

The grin slipped slowly from Katsuki's lips as silence fell back over them, and they continued going about the simple, repetitive task of dishwashing. One would almost believe they were too focused on the task to speak if they couldn't see the way their eyes drifted into memories and their shoulders tensed with emotions.

Finally something clawed at the back of Katsuki's mind that he had to share. He looked at Inko, wanting to gauge her reaction. "Did he ever show you his quirk analysis journals?"

Inko let out a small huff of laughter, a sort of melancholic humor glistening in her eyes. "He didn't have to _show_ _me_ anything. He was always writing in those things, always asking me to buy more notebooks when he filled one. I couldn't pry him away from them even if I wanted to."

"He had something about me in one of them…" Katsuki had to look away. He couldn't stand watching her face fall as he admitted it.

"Did he now?" But Inko never sounded upset with him.

"Yeah…" He didn't offer anything else.

Inko finally sighed, putting down the pot in her hands and wiping the soap onto her apron. She turned to look at him. He still couldn't meet her eyes. "Why are you bringing this up now Katsuki-kun? I know you. You aren't one to just talk about these types of things for no reason."

In the silence that followed, Katuki made the mistake of looking up and meeting her gaze. It was only for a single moment, but Inko's eyes were enough to unravel his entire soul. "I just-" he sighed before admitting, "I don't know how to use my quirk anymore."

Once he began, once those first words were out, Katsuki felt like he couldn't contain himself, and it made him wonder how he had managed to keep his feelings and words bottled for so long. "Like I know _how_ like logistically or whatever, but I don't know how I can get myself to use it. I am capable of using it, but I don't think I can use it. Ugh! That doesn't even make any fucking sense!

"It's just… It feels…"

He took a deep breath, trying to contain himself, to compose himself enough to finally get the words out. "I-it's disconnected from me in some way now. Some other, alien part of me. Or maybe it's like an entirely different me. I don't know. I don't really know anything these days. But I do know I can't do it."

Inko sighed, her eyes sparking with the dull realization of what she had already known. "You still blame that part of yourself."

"Of course I fucking do!" Katsuki exploded, smashing the plate that he was supposed to be drying into the sink. It clattered violently but held together as Katsuki fell to pieces instead.

He brought his hands to his hair, grasping and pulling and clenching as he gasped again and again, "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry."

Inko sighed, taking his hands into her own, gently guiding him into the living room. He never even noticed how they had gotten to the couch until after they had already been sitting for a long while.

"It's alright to get upset, Katsuki," Inko finally assured him. "In fact, I'd say it's less healthy if you never do."

"It's _not_ alright," Katsuki insisted, looking at the older woman with frightened, red-rimmed eyes. His eyes fell away again, ashamedly fixating on his still trembling hands. He was so exhausted again. "Not for me. Not like I do."

"You think your Quirk will make your anger explode more too." She always got to the heart of the matter. Perhaps it was some sort of motherly intuition or maybe it was something inherent to Midoriya Inko in particular, but she knew what her boys needed and thought even when they could say no words at all.

So Katsuki didn't answer. He didn't need to.

But Inko could not let the subject rest. "Katsuki," she called firmly, pulling his arms towards her, trying to force him to look her in the eye once more. He refused.

"No. Look at me." She demanded. "You need to understand this. I need to make you if I must." He finally looked, his entire face drooping, weighed down by emotion and regret.

"You made a mistake that you regret, right?" Inko had tried to avoid the heart of the subject if at all possible out of courtesy to both of their feelings, but there seemed to be nothing that would get through to Katsuki.

"Mo-more than anything…" He finally stuttered out, emotions hilting his speech.

"And you're doing what you can to fix it? To make up for it?" Her eyes were open and earnest.

He nodded.

Inko drew in a deep breath, needing to prepare herself for the next question and the response she knew it would entail. "And you're never going to make the same sort of mistake again are you?"

Scandalized, a look of pure fear and horror swept over Katsuki's face as though his darkest nightmare had suddenly appeared from the body of an angel. "Never." He rasped out. His voice was tight but firm. "I'd stop myself before I did anything. Do anything to not do something like that _ever_ again."

The weight of the previous questions drained from Inko's face. Her shoulders sagged as she sighed once more. "So let yourself heal now. You won't go back to who you were. You're so much more than that mistake; you've grown so much since then. You need to trust yourself. _Use your quirk._ "

"I can't," Katsuki choked.

"You can," Inko insisted. "It's part of you. You can't deny it. You shouldn't, so don't."

Katsuki shook his head. It began as a response of refusal before it turned into something more fierce as though he was trying to get the very thought of the idea, the mere imagining of the concept, out of his head.

"You don't get it." His voice was getting more aggressive again, and he hated it. "Every time, every single fucking time, I start feeling angry, I can feel it, feel the sparks beneath my skin, ready to flare up and explode, to hurt whoever's there. It doesn't matter who I'm mad at, doesn't matter if it's just myself, my explosions will take anyone, _everyone_ with them."

He looked at his trembling fingers, could feel the sensation of sparks sizzling in his palms, could almost smell the nitroglycerin, could almost taste the smoke. "I can feel it bubbling away inside of me, ready to be unleashed into the world. I'm not ready to do that. I don't want to do that. Not anymore. Never again."

He sighed, the simmering rage becoming overwhelmed by resolute sorrow. "I need to use my quirk. I know it's part of me. I know I can't be a hero like I want if I don't. But. But…

"I can't be myself, can't be the _me_ I want to be, if I use my quirk. I'll hurt someone, and this time I don't think it'll be something they'll ever wake from. Who am I kidding? I'm more villain already now than I'll ever be hero! It'd be better if I just die-"

"Katsuki!" Inko burst out, grabbing his hands again without a trace of fear. "I _never_ want to hear you say something like that ever again. Do you understand me?"

She waited until he nodded before continuing. "You need to live. You carry not just your dreams but Izuku's and mine for you too. You'll be a great hero someday, show everyone how to get past hardships and trauma.

"You can't prove you're not a villain if you don't live long enough to give yourself a chance."

"I-" Katsuki wanted to argue. Just for a moment. The self doubt and hatred swelled and surged, but ebbed away under the fierce protective might of Midoriya Inko.

He was so stupid. She was right. She always was. He could feel the tears tickling his eyelashes once more. "Sorry. You're right. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking stupid. Can't do anything right. Sorry."

"Come here," she tugged his hands again, pulling him into her arms.

Katsuki crumpled there, walls and emotions slipping away. He got snot and tears all over her shoulder.

"Sorry," he said instinctively as he began to pull away and saw what had happened.

"It's alright. It's alright. It's all going to be alright." They both knew he wasn't apologizing over the mess on her clothes.

"Inko-san?" His voice was meek, almost a whisper, not like Katsuki at all.

"Yes?"

He swallowed. "Do you really think I can be a hero even if my quirk is only good for hurting people?"

Inko smiled softly in that same encouraging way she had when Katsuki and Izuku had played at being heroes together when they were young. "Oh, I think you'll be the greatest hero ever. Izuku will be so proud when he wakes up to see all the good you've done."

And Katsuki was able to genuinely smile back at her, even if it was a bit more feeble. "I better get started on doing all that good then."

"Yeah, I'd say you should."

The smile slipped away again as his brow creased. "I still don't know if I can use my quirk."

"Just work a little bit at a time. Start with those feelings you said you had before. The sparks underneath. Get used to them again before you even try bringing them out," Inko recommended. "It's all about baby steps. That's how we accomplish everything, how we begin to ever heal."

In the end, Katsuki spent another night at the Midoriya apartment, and Inko finished the dishes in the morning.

Katsuki left early the next morning before Inko or the sun had shown their faces. He ran to his house, put on sweatpants and a t-shirt, packed his school uniform into his backpack, grabbed two snacks, two water bottles (one frozen, one not), checked at least three different times to make sure the sweater had not moved from his backpack since he left the Midoriya apartment, and then headed out once more.

He ran again.

There was no real sense to it; he wasn't truly paying attention; he had no destination in mind. So he ran.

He ran until his lungs felt like they were going to burst from his chest, and then he ran faster. He ran until he collapsed at the park. (Because didn't his running always lead him there?)

It was morning now. He had run through the sunrise, so he had not even noticed the splashes of red in the sky that often filled him with too many memories and too much anxiety. Running without thinking meant just that; he didn't need to think or overthink for that matter.

So he collapsed onto his back at the park, feeling the dew dampen his already sweat-slicked skin, feeling the grass blades individually poke through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. He could hear his heartbeat, could taste the hint of blood from overworking on his tongue. But he sat up anyway, and then he was doing crunches.

He worked each muscle group he could think of an exercise for until his skin felt too tight and his body was screaming. Even then, he took a few gulps of water and went on once more.

By the time he could move no more, his body forcibly shutting down even while his mind screamed out that it was still unsatisfied, class had already begun.

Katsuki gulped down the rest of his unfrozen water bottle and didn't bother showing up to class until after lunch.

He gave no excuse to the school or the teacher, and no one bothered to ask for one anyway.

Katsuki thinks he fell asleep in class, or he dissociated for long enough that it achieved the same ultimate oblivity. Regardless, he felt no more rested and equally unaware as when he had arrived at school. It was late when he left.

He didn't speak to anyone on his way out; he wasn't sure if there was anyone left in the building _to_ speak to on his way out. It wouldn't have mattered either way.

He made it back to the park in one piece which may have been a miracle or at least incredibly good luck considering it was not only rush hour, but Katsuki had also not paid one lick of attention to any of his surroundings. He could only thank his distasteful resting face for scaring away anyone who may have been looking for a fight because Katsuki would have been the easiest target imaginable during his walk. There was nothing but sheer luck to thank for not getting hit by a car.

He laid on the grass once more and took a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as though he could just sink into the earth and find peace.

But the grass prickled, and the sun still burned through his eyelids, and the birds never _shut the fuck up-!_

But wait- but no- stop. His palms sizzled into the grass. The sun was getting stronger as the days grew longer, and there was so much sweat on his palms, and it all smelled so sickly sweet.

Katsuki brought one of his hands up to his face, opening his eyes to glare at the offending appendage as though it had personally insulted him. As though his glare would cause the sparks to disappear, cowering from the ferocity of his gaze.

He clenched his fist, trying to quench the tiny sparks that just wouldn't go away. He was hopeless. Why did he ever think that he could actually become a hero? What the fuck made him ever believe that he could get over this? Could use his quirk again?

Dammit! He was so goddamn stupid!

Fuck! Katsuki growled as he angrily slammed his clenched fist down onto the ground beside him.

He flinched away, throwing himself onto his knees as a small explosion sounded and smoke puffed up from the charred grass. It was just smoke and sound, but it was enough.

Katsuki began scraping his hands furiously against the earth, trying to get any drops of sweat off his palms. He rubbed his hands together, nails scratching at the already reddened skin.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't going away. His palms were too hot. Too damp. Too much and too much and too much.

Dammit. Dammit! Dammit! DAMMIT!

Small explosions flecked upwards towards his face. Katsuki's hands were red and raw, and his face feels warm like when you know you've got sunburn. His ears rang. From the sounds or his thoughts or maybe both.

Katsuki clenched both fists tight around the sparks even though that just further agitated his injured flesh. And he slammed both hands onto the ground.

He was so _stupid!_ He was so tired. He was so angry. He was so tired of being so angry.

He lowered his forehead to the ground, nestling himself between his trembling hands. He opened his mouth and screamed and sobbed and couldn't tell where one sound, one emotion, ended and another began.

By the time Katsuki tore himself off the ground, his tears were dry, his voice was hoarse, and he was utterly exhausted in every meaning of the word. He dragged himself upright, crawled over to his backpack, and pulled the sweater out.

He just cradled it for a moment, but Katsuki knew that if he had any more tears to shed, they would have been soaked up by the sweater now.

Katsuki took in one slow, aching breath, the air quivering through his lungs. He begged his mind to calm the raging torrent of thoughts as he pulled the sweater away from one eye. He held the warm material up against one side of his face with a single hand.

Dread fell deep in his stomach with the next breath. Katsuki reached the other hand out, agonizingly slowly.

He watched as the link quivered and trembled. No. No! He could do this. He _would_ do this.

With his resolve steeled, the dread ebbed away. His eyes hardened in focus as he formed a fist to ensure his nerve held.

Katsuki took another deep breath in, the clearest one in a long while. He held it for a moment, and the entire world seemed to pause along with him, all hush in expectation.

Then he released the trapped air and opened his hand. He let a small single spark jump from beneath his skin, sparking the bits of sweat on his palm.

Katsuki watched the small explosion form in the air just above his flesh. He watched it blossom and bloom, a cosmos contained in this small moment.

He felt the heat, but it didn't burn, heard the sound, but it didn't shatter, saw the explosion, but didn't implode. Instead the reds and golds flecked out, awesome but controllable.

A flower bloomed in this hand and died quickly to smoke, but Katsuki felt himself grow, felt himself heal, if only just by a single spark.

When I couldn't figure out what to write next, I asked my friends what I should write, and this was the response: "It's the gay angst. The gayngst if you will." So that's clearly the actual synopsis of this story. Thanks again for the support, and I hope to have the next chapter out more promptly.


	7. Chapter 6: And Flowers of Another

It's been a bit. Not as long as before. I don't think at least… Quarantine is weird, but hey! I'm officially a college grad this Saturday! I mean I'm still student teaching through June 5, but still! Speaking of student teaching, I got to teach Fanfiction in my Creative Writing class which was a blast and made me feel especially nerdy!

There's some cute fluff and less angst (in my humble opinion) in this chapter, so yay!

Also, this chapter really be feeling that "Are they just friends, or is it gay?" vibe that we love about Bakugou and Deku interacting. As an English major, I always appreciate the queer subtext in a text, so I hope you enjoy too.

Thanks for all the support, comments, and patience! Even if I'm bad at always responding to comments, know that I see you, I read them many times, geek over them with my friends, and appreciate absolutely every single one of you who reads this wholeheartedly!

Let me know your thoughts about this chapter and the fic as a whole!

Chapter 6: And Flowers of Another

It was the second week in July, and that meant summer break was just around the corner. Like most teenagers, Katsuki was eagerly anticipating the coming break; however, unlike most teenagers, he was dreading the end of the school time.

He wasn't dreading this end for typical reasons like not seeing friends or missing the extra curriculars or even just the fact that he would no longer have the simple routine of school to fall back on. (Though he could admit that the routine was sometimes the only thing that kept him moving some days.)

So yes, Katsuki was looking forward to being able to spend his break retraining himself, becoming comfortable in his own skin, feeling the spark of his sweat once more. But, before he could do that, it would be July 15th.

It was about a week away from the end of the school term, and Katsuki was once again sitting in Dr. Hiruluk's office. He had gotten better with talking recently even if he never shared as much with the doctor as he ever would with Inko. There were some things that strangers could never understand after all, and the doctor would always be a stranger to Izuku no matter how many stories Katsuki shared.

The session started as it always did, with questions about Katsuki's current school situation. How was his week? Any friends yet?

Katsuki shrugged off the questions, and Dr. Hiruluk let him stir in the silence for a bit, easily noticing the newest weighted cloud swirling through Katsuki's thoughts. Dr. Hiruluk pretended to busy himself by fiddling with his pen and writing in his notepad, content to wait for Katsuki to break the silence.

Katsuki broke the silence suddenly with no preamble. "It's his birthday next week. The first since… yeah…"

Katsuki trailed back off into silence. The burst had taken a bit of the tension from the room and off the young boy's shoulders, but it was clear that he wasn't finished. The silence dragged on again as the doctor waited for Katsuki to continue airing his thoughts.

"How old-" Dr. Hiruluk finally began asking when it seemed nothing more would come from Katsuki without prompting.

But Katsuki began speaking once again at the same moment. This time, he didn't stop. This time, it didn't seem like he was saying it for the doctor's sake. "And I know it's fucked up, but I feel like I should be there to _celebrate_. Celebrate?" the blonde scoffed. "Like there's anything happy about this…"

Only then did he seem to remember the doctor and went on to clarify his thoughts, trying to shape his feelings for the man whose job it was to _fix him_. "He'll be fifteen like me. I always made fun of him for that when we were little. He was the little wimp, the crybaby, had to follow me around his whole fucking life. God." Katsuki's head fell back against the chair as he closed his eyes and sank deeper into his slumped position. "I was stupid."

Dr. Hiruluk leaned forwards as the boy finished, trying to keep his voice gentle and comforting. "It's normal to feel guilty about our pasts, and it's much easier for our minds to remember the bad things.

"But," the boy needed to understand how to move past the negatives, needed to be comforted by the past instead of dwelling on it, needed so much more than he was given, but this was all Dr. Hiruluk could offer. "It's Izuku's birthday, so what are some positives from your past together? What are those happy memories? Share those instead. Cherish and celebrate the moments you had that you were happy instead of mourning the wrong choices."

Katsuki opened his eyes to peer at the doctor, "Positives, huh?" He sighed, trying to remember. It seemed that he was constantly hautnted by all the awful things he had done, but there had to be something good in there, right? There had to be a reason behind why Izuku had ever followed him; they hadn't always been at odds; Katsuki hadn't always been…

"Sometimes I'm not sure we ever had any…" Katsuki sighed again, thinking back to those times when it hadn't mattered or they hadn't known or there wasn't a difference that Izuku didn't have a quirk, would never have a quirk. "But I guess, when we were really little we were playing with Play-Doh, making fake cookies and shit to sell, and I decided it would be so much better if we made real cookies to give to Ink-Izuku's mom.

"So we go in the kitchen and just start grabbing shit like we were five years old and had no fucking clue what we were doing, but we knew we had to mix some sugar and flour and water together, right? That's how baking works," Katsuki could feel the smile pull at his lips as he remembered the smell of Play-Doh, the feel of dry, chalky residue it left on dirtied childish palms, the smile Izuku wore when they worked together.

"But things weren't sticking right, so I got the bright idea, hey, you know what will help, the Play-Doh. It sticks together plus then our cookies will be pretty colors," Katsuki was almost excited. "And when we finally had the dough finished, I used my quir…"

Oh. He had forgotten. Izuku and him and his Quirk usually meant burns and tears in green eyes, but back then it hadn't. Explosions were destructive, but Izuku admired them, loved them. He had seen beyond the flames and crumbling rubble, past the burns and scorched flesh. Katsuki's quirk was more in Izuku's eyes; it was _beautiful._

"Katsuki?" Dr. Hiruluk interrupted the boy's thoughts. He had been quiet for longer than he thought, sinking into thoughts of happy remembrance this time.

"Sorry, I-I used my _quirk_ to "bake" them." It was still a struggle to get over that word, especially in relation to himself, especially when talking about Izuku. "But I was fucking five, so I didn't have very good control. So this nasty bright blue crumbly shit that's both too salty and too sweet and too bitter all at once starts flying all around the kitchen.

"But," now it was like Katsuki was a master storyteller, stringing along his audience, both of them equally excited to hear how the tale would end. "We got one. One whole ass cookie that was burnt on the edges and looked like a cat threw it up, and we put it on a goddamn plate and brought it to Izuku's mom with these bright grins on our faces, so fucking proud of our stupidity.

"At first, she didn't know what to say, but eventually she smiled, took a bite—I shit you not—told us how absolutely goddamn delicious it was, and then proceeded to give us the biggest fucking lecture of our lives as we all cleaned the kitchen. It was-it was nice…" It was strange remembering nice times with Izuku. Good, sweet, his chest felt warmer and lighter but strange nonetheless.

"Well," One could tell that Dr. Hiruluk had seen and heard some shit in his time because he didn't even bat an eyelash to the childish destruction. Instead, he prompted Katsuki towards thinking once more about the present and the future. It was good to see him embrace something cheerful from the past, but it would inevitably be just as unhealthy for him to be stuck in those good times as it would for him to be obsessed with the bad.

"I wouldn't recommend bringing Play-Doh cookies when you go to celebrate, but maybe there's something else you could do to celebrate. Balloons or a stuffed animal or flowers, maybe? Something that could stay there but could feel like a present, like something is actually being celebrated."

But it was as though someone had finally unclogged the stream of happy memories because Katsuki just went onto another story, falling into his memories again. "He used to pick all the goddamn flowers when we'd go on our adventures, ripping them out as we'd run. It always slowed him down, and I'd get on his case for it, but he'd look at me with that stupid fucking sunshine look on his face. He'd hand them to me all goddamn pleased with himself…

There's a group of five or so young boys no older than age 6, running over a hilltop into the sunshine. Their silhouettes boast knobby knees and stick swords. They run into what would appear like a grand forest to ones so young (it has a small crick and everything!). The blonde, clearly in charge of the boys, stands back as he orders them to begin looking through the trees and under rocks for bugs.

He stands young and confident, stick held aloft with the pride of one who has wielded an actual blade for years. He was obviously a talented fighter and an even better ruler hence why he didn't need to do the actual dirty work.

The final boy in the troupe who had been lagging behind the others finally comes up beside the blond, green eyes bright and shining, a smile stretched across his freckled cheeks. The green eyed boy has wildflowers clutched in his small fists, holding them out for the blonde boy.

"And what are these supposed to be?" The blonde boy scoffs looking down his nose at the other boy.

"Flowers!" The green one exclaims happily, smile shining even brighter. "For you, Kacchan! The red ones remind me of your quirk, and the yellow ones are like your hair, and the orange ones are your favorite color, and-"

The blonde's scowl deepens as he listens to the other boy begin his explanation. "And what do you think I'm supposed to do with them?"

The green-eyed boy is undeterred. "Keep 'em! They're a present." He explains simply.

"I don't need your flowers Deku. I'm not a girl." The blonde turns his back on the green-eyed boy, looking over his grand forest realm instead. He was an uncaring, unfeeling barbarian king after all.

"But Kacchan…" The disappointment was heavy in his voice as the arm holding the flowers dropped to his side.

"'I'm a hero. I don't have time for flowers,' I told him. But when I found a four-leaf clover at the end of the day, I gave it to him. We were walking home, and everyone else had already fucked off, so it was just the two of us.

The same blonde boy and his green-eyed companion are walking back over the same hill with the same sun, now setting, now behind them. They walk together now even though they don't really seem to talk, they seem content, or at least tired enough to appear content, to just be with each other.

As they reach the top of the hill, it is the blonde who turns to the green-eyed boy this time. "Here Deku," he is still scowling, but this time it is the blonde that extends his hand with a plant clutched in his hand.

"K-kacchan?" Where before there was disappointment, now there is bewilderment.

"It's cooler than a stupid flower," the blonde boy is still scowling even as a blush plasters itself upon his pale cheeks. "Plus it reminded me of you."

He tries to mutter it quickly, an afterthought, not meant to be heard. Who cares if it took half the afternoon to find it? That was just proof that he was much better than the other boy!

"Kacchan!" Oh god, it sounded like there were tears coming, happy tears but still tears. "Thank you!"

The green-eyed boy launched himself at the blonde, and they almost went tumbling down the hill, locked in a hug. The blonde pawed at the other boy's arms, "trying" to pull away from the "unwanted" embrace.

"Hey, stop it!" He yelled, scowl still firmly in place even as the blush deepened even further. "I just thought you could use them and not for any other reason! They're supposed to be lucky or whatever, so I just thought maybe it'd help you get lucky and make you actually get a quirk."

The blonde tried once again to quickly explain his actions away, but when the green-eyed boy finally pulled away, it was easy to see that neither of them believed the explanations. The boy's green eyes shone even brighter than before, as bright as the clover now clutched to his chest.

His smile was as bright as his eyes; he practically glowed in the light of the setting sun. "Kacchan's my best friend ever."

"Whatever," the blonde looked away, still scowling, still blushing.

"'Stupid Deku…' I called him like I always did. I'm not sure when it was that I started believing it too. I didn't then, but… Anyway.

"So yeah, maybe some flowers…" As though it was that simple to explain his and Izuku's relationship. And for Katsuki, it was. Even if that would never be true for anyone else. Strangers could never understand after all.

School continued on, and Katsuki continued on as well. He was still both dreading and anticipating the end of term, but perhaps the eagerness was winning over. At least with the end of school for a bit, he wouldn't have to make excuses to go home. He could stay with Inko whenever he wanted. Katsuki doubted his parents would even notice his absence. If they did, they wouldn't care enough to do anything.

Whatever. This wasn't about them.

This week was supposed to be about Izuku. But then again, everything in Katsuki's life seemed to revolve around Izuku these days. He talked to Inko about his plans, and she supported him wholeheartedly. It was nice to want to do something nice, and even better to have someone on his side while he did it.

Inko encouraged him to sleep, to eat, to study. Katsuki was wrapped up in his head, but Inko got him through those ending days of class. When he was more aware of himself, Katsuki would feel bad about how she had to worry about him while she must've also been struggling, but for now, it was good.

On Tuesday night, Katsuki didn't even bother pretending to want to go back to his house, didn't play at saying he should leave. He couldn't not stay.

He could have made up an excuse that he wanted to be closer to the hill to get his present, that he wanted to leave as early as possible in the morning, that it was because he was worried for her. But it didn't matter. Katsuki needed to stay. They both understood that; they needed the comfort of someone else who understood.

So Katsuki stayed on Tuesday night. They talked about inane things: school, summer break, the color of flowers against green, green grass.

It was nice. Like talking in a language no one else understood.

They cried together again and talked about things they remembered, memories they loved. Inko brought out the baby photos, and they had hot cocoa late at night even though it was the middle of July.

And if neither of them mentioned it when they woke up the next morning then that was just another part of that secret language.

Alright, alright, so technically picking wildflowers is illegal, but it's a very hard crime to catch and certainly not one that Katsuki had ever given much thought to. Plus! That was how Izuku always got flowers himself, and it didn't feel right to just buy some, at least not these ones. These were special; these meant something, more than anything else really could right now.

That was how Katsuki spent his Wednesday morning. He didn't go to school even if the final day for the term was Friday. They could have had some big ass test today, and it wouldn't have mattered. Today was Izuku's day, and that was it. If nothing else, at least Katsuki could give him this.

If he could have, Katsuki would have worn the sweatshirt today. But it was July, and the hospital wasn't known for its great AC. Too many layers meant more sweat, and Katsuki could only deal with so much today. So as much as he longed for the comfort the sweatshirt brought, he couldn't bring himself to wear it for fear of corrupting it, of burning it, of destroying it. Like he did with everything else of Izuku's…

So no sweatshirt for comfort, but he had Inko! Inko was beside him the entire time as he walked into the hospital with his god awful bouquet.

It was probably the stupidest and ugliest bouquet that had ever been brought into the hospital before, but if anyone spent him a wondering glance as he entered the facility and made his way to Izuku's room with Inko then he didn't notice.

It was nice to have Inko by his side when he visited; it reminded Katsuki that there were other people who remembered Izuku, other people who cared. People who cared about Katsuki too even if it was just person, not people.

They made their way through the hallway in silence, but Katsuki clutched Inko's hand tightly with one of his as the other clutched the ramshackle bouquet with equal ferocity. It kept him grounded and focused in the present. Sometimes the overbearing scent of sterile cleanliness was too much to bear, but Inko reminded him that he was here, reminded him that here wasn't the worst place he could be.

They paused as they neared the door.

This was it. He would go inside, give the flowers to Izuku, hope and pray and- Hope. That was all he could really do these days. It was like what he would tell Izuku. Just hope that you'll have a quirk, but that had always been a goddamn joke, never feasible. Now Katsuki was the one hoping for something that seemed more and more impossible by the day. Katsuki was a goddamn joke. He was so stupid, and he should just leave! Yeah, Izuku wouldn't want to see him; why would he, and it would be better to leave Inko here, so she could spend time with her son, and Katsuki didn't want to intrude, didn't deserve-

"Katsuki!" The blonde boy jolted out of his own thoughts, looking up to Inko, startled.

Her eyes were shining with tears. Oh god, he'd made her cry again. He was such a fuck up!

"Katsuki," she repeated, gentler this time. "Please stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

She held his hands up, so he could see them. His nails were carving into his palm on one hand and breaking flower stems in the other. Katsuki let out a deep, shaking breath, forcing himself to relax his grip. Crescent moons were carved into his palms, but there was no blood this time. Inko had stopped him before any real harm could occur.

"Breath Katsuki," she instructed, still not releasing his hands.

They stood there for a few moments, just breathing in each other's presence, trying to force a sense of calm neither of them fully felt.

Finally Inko released his hands. "I'm going to go get myself some coffee. I'll try to find a vase too while I'm gone. Take some time on your own to talk. You could use a private conversation with Izuku. Give him the flowers. He'll love them."

"Sound okay with you?" Because she'd never force him even when there wasn't really a choice.

Katsuki nodded, swallowing a bit of bile. "Y-yeah."

"I'll be back soon, but if you're not done when I get back, just say so. Take all the time you need."

The world didn't deserve Midoriya Inko, and Katsuki certainly didn't either.

She didn't leave until after Katsuki had opened the door on his own and walked inside. He looked back one more time to see her give a smile and a nod of encouragement.

Katsuki looked at the still form lit by the sunlight flooding from the uncovered window. He didn't look older, the exact opposite in fact. It was all too easy for Katsuki to look at Izuku's still form and picture a much younger version asleep beside him in the same bed at a sleepover. He was so small, so peaceful, and yet so warm.

Maybe not as bright without the smile or the shining eyes or the bubbling laughter, but warm like the freckles on his cheeks and the sunlight drifting through his hair. If Izuku was just asleep then Katsuki was just content to bask in his presence. Neither of those things were true, but it was nice to pretend sometimes.

Katsuki smiled sadly as he stood awkwardly beside Izuku's still form. "Hi Izuku. Happy birthday, I guess."

Katsuki didn't know what to do with himself. He extended his hand with the bouquet as though someone was there to take it from him. "I-I brought you flowers. I don't have a vase, but your mom's getting something. But I hope you like them or whatever…"

Katsuki had no fucking clue what he was doing. He dropped his hand as he realized his own stupidity, groaning as he collapsed into the chair beside Izuku's bed. He slapped his palm to his forehead and dragged his fingers through his hair.

"What am I doing?" Katsuki groaned again. "I shouldn't have come. I'm such a fucking idiot. I'm sorry. You wouldn't-you don't. Fuck. _Fuck."_

Katsuki quickly clutched his fingers once more before the flowers could slip from his grasp. He looked back up at Izuku's face once more.

"I'm sorry." He apologized. "I promised I'd try to make this a happy time. It's _your_ birthday after all. I should be thinking about what you want, not just about my fucking self.

"So I got you some flowers. I picked 'em myself too. But that's not really legal, so don't tell anyone. Not that you could or would or… shit. I'm bad at this aren't I?" He smiled hesitantly and could almost hear Izuku's reassuring answer that 'No, Kacchan's fine! He's great!'

The smile twinged with melancholy as he remembered those happier times of flower picking. "You always just told me why you chose them so," Katsuki presented the bouquet once more. "I got the red ones because they're like those damn shoes you always wear, and the daisies are pretty plain and common, and I think that's what most people see you as, how I saw you as. And I put in some fucking dandelions, and yes I know they're a fucking weed whatever, because you always said they reminded you of me. As if I'd be a fucking weed! But whatever. The leafy shit is like that bush your call hair, so fucking green."

Katsuki's smile changed again, a secret playing on his lips, that thing strangers wouldn't understand. "And I put in a four leaf clover. Took me ages to find it. You could use all the goddamn luck you can get these days.

"I'm the lucky one though. I'm the lucky one."


End file.
